Chapter 22
CLARK
Something weird has happened. I shook Florence’s hand and all my tension, frustration and anger dissolved. The feel of her soft fingers wrapped around mine made me feel lighter, like something had been released.
We’ve both pulled back our hands. Everything feels awkward. She’s trying not to look at me. Maybe she felt something, too? I doubt it.
‘Right,’ I say, needing some distraction from the handshake. ‘What do we do?’
‘I think we should speak to Pearl,’ she says. ‘We can tell her about Mr Beaver and somehow persuade her to reunite with him.’
‘That could be tricky.’
She looks panicky. ‘Clark, this could be our last day of the test.’
I feel my shoulders drop a little. ‘Yes, it could be.’
‘Earlier, I gave Laura an emotional hug, and I phoned my mum to tell her how I think she’s been an amazing mother. From the looks on both their faces, I can tell they think I’m losing my marbles.’
‘You should have heard me phoning in sick. I nearly made my manager cry.’
She looks towards my back window. ‘Did you know I finally planted some courgette seeds yesterday? If we die tonight at least Mum knows I finally started my vegetable patch.’
‘Didn’t you vow to do that at your dad’s funeral?’
‘Three years of intense planning.’ She smiles. ‘When I was leaving the café earlier, I thought about decorating upstairs if we’re given a second chance. That’s another thing I’ve been putting off.’
‘It reminds you of your dad, that’s why you talk yourself out of doing it. I’m not surprised as he was a legend.’
She holds my gaze. ‘You might be right.’
Staring into her eyes, which today look like they’ve been dipped in honey, gives me a fluttering sensation. I dismiss it and run my hand through my hair. ‘Do you think we helped Jane?’
‘A little bit, perhaps? We did show her that we enjoy arguing with each other. That will be our legacy – we’ll be remembered as the two quarrelling neighbours.’
That familiar, uncomfortable feeling crawls over me. ‘If we didn’t pass with Jane then that means our fate rests with Pearl. It’s nearly five. We’re not going to reunite them tonight – are we?’
Florence shakes her head and says softly, ‘No, Clark.’
‘This could be our last night.’
She looks at me with watery eyes. ‘Yes.’
The urge to put my arm around her is strong but I remind myself that Florence and I annoy each other and she would probably shout at me.
Panic sets in, and my heart starts to thrum with urgency. ‘What are we going to do, Florence?’
She puts on her denim jacket. ‘All these bleak thoughts are making me feel cold. We can’t give up, I know that.
’ I watch as she fiddles with a few loose threads on the sleeve and traces along a line of loose stitching with her finger.
Something flickers across her face, and she gasps. ‘Maybe the test isn’t a single act?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘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.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, Clark. When I told Rodney I couldn’t marry him, he told me once that he would one day meet me again in Pixie Cove.’ She dissolves into floods of tears. Florence rushes to her other side, and together we comfort her.
‘I should have known that’s where he would be.’ After her tears have abated she sniffs. ‘Waiting for me in Pixie Cove.’
‘I drove there yesterday.’
She looks at me. ‘Did you speak to him?’
‘I did.’
‘Please don’t tell me he’s happily married?’
‘It didn’t look like it,’ I say, recalling Mr Beaver’s hands. He wasn’t wearing a wedding ring, and I didn’t see any photos of a much-loved wife.
Pearl fishes a tissue from her cardigan sleeve. ‘Well, that’s something.’
‘Did you know Mr Beaver, as he was called then, taught both Florence and me maths when we were at school?’
Pearl glances at me and then at Florence, who nods. ‘He was the worst teacher ever, Pearl.’
‘I knew he wanted to be a maths teacher one day. Why was he so bad? He had a fantastic brain. He even made me interested in numbers.’
Florence and I exchange a worried glance.
‘He came across as a little… cross,’ I say, trying to be diplomatic.
‘He was a nightmare,’ says Florence, not following my lead. ‘He shouted at everyone and terrorised the school. Always full of anger.’
Pearl is shaking her head. ‘That doesn’t sound like the Rodney I fell in love with.’
Florence and I return to the sofa.
‘Where does he live?’ Pearl asks.
‘In a cottage on the clifftop road. It’s painted duck-egg blue.’
She sighs. ‘That used to be his favourite colour.’
‘I know his address. You could write to him.’
Something flickers across her face. ‘I’m not sure I want that, Clark.’
‘What do you mean?’ exclaims Florence. ‘You must get in contact with him. You and he are like two lost souls who need to be reunited.’
To our dismay, Pearl shakes her head. ‘I don’t want to meet Rodney again if he’s angry.’
‘What?’ Florence and I say in unison.
‘I’m sorry, both of you,’ she says, touching one of her silvery curls. ‘That’s not the Rodney I fell in love with.’
My heart sinks. Reuniting Pearl and Mr Beaver now feels impossible.
As we step outside, Florence gestures towards her house. ‘Can we go back to my house?’ I nod, and we walk back in silence.
Her shoulders are hitched up to her ears, and her face looks strained. Seeing her troubled makes my heart ache.
When we enter, she goes to sit on the sofa. I decide to be brave and sit next to her. ‘Are you okay?’ I ask, softly.
She fiddles with a loose thread on her denim jacket. ‘Feeling nervous again.’
‘Me too. We won’t have passed.’
She shakes her head and croaks, ‘No.’
‘Do you want a hug?’
She blinks for a few seconds, and I find myself praying she says yes. Then there’s a knock at the door, making us both jump. She gets up and gasps at whoever is standing on the doorstep. I twist around to see who it as and my heart lurches into my throat.
Iris and Hilda are here.
They’ve just come into Florence’s living room, with huge grins on their faces and waving their clipboards at us like two holiday reps.
I gulp. What does this mean? A terrorising thought pushes its way to the front of my mind – it’s over. They are here to take us back to the afterlife.
Florence comes to sit next to me. She’s trembling so I put my arm around her. To my surprise she leans against me.
‘Hello again.’ Hilda beams. Her silver dress is shimmering in the light.
Iris is surveying Florence’s room. ‘What lovely décor, Florence. Those bookcases look delightful. If I had more time I would have a little browse. Do you have any angel romances?’
Hilda nudges her, before looking at both of us. ‘It’s so nice to see you both.’
Iris giggles. ‘Did you like the butterflies? That was my idea.’ She points to Hilda. ‘If it had been left up to her you would have just had boring birds. I decided to shake things up a bit.’
‘The butterflies were amazing,’ I mumble.
Hilda clears her throat and glances at her clipboard. ‘We’re here to say that you’ve failed… again.’
Iris chuckles and grins at us. ‘Isn’t this fun?’
‘Are we going to die?’ Florence croaks, before wiping her wet cheeks. ‘Is that why you’re here?’
Hilda and Iris exchange puzzled looks. They turn back and I hold my breath.
‘No,’ says Hilda. ‘You can try again.’
A wave of relief crashes over me and I pull Florence closer. She rests her head on my shoulder, and I feel her body relax against mine.
‘Why are you here?’ I ask.
Iris shrugs. ‘We like to keep you on your toes, and Hilda forgot to sort out a messenger. She was too busy fluffing Gabriel’s halo.’
Hilda gives her a prod. ‘Careful.’
‘Can you give us a clue on how we are doing?’ Florence asks.
Hilda shakes her head but Iris stares at Florence’s jacket sleeve. ‘That’s a fabulous vintage denim jacket, Florence. You must look after it.’
Was that a clue? Florence might be onto something with her ‘small things’ theory. A burst of excitement ripples through me.
Iris smiles and points towards the door. ‘We are going now. It was great to see you again. Glad you liked the butterflies.’
They both hurry out and close the door behind them.
We remain silent for a few moments. To my surprise Florence remains in the crook of my arm and the sight is making my heart flutter.
She sits up and grins at me. ‘We have another chance, Clark.’
‘I know,’ I say, savouring the fact we’re still here.
‘You know when she mentioned my jacket… was that a clue?’
I reach out and touch her arm. She doesn’t flinch. ‘This is new territory for me but, Florence Hill, you do have some bloody good ideas and that has to be your best yet.’