Chapter 31
FLORENCE
Pearl listened intently to our recount of the meeting with Mr Beaver.
She also loved hearing about Pixie Cove.
Once we’d finished, she nodded and folded her hands in her lap.
Clark and I were on the edge of our seats.
We wanted her to be filled with nervous excitement at finally having the chance to meet her true love after all these years, and to beg us to take her to him.
To our dismay, she said, ‘I’ll give this some thought. ’
Our hopes plummeted.
Worry coursed through my veins. What small things had we changed today?
We had driven to Pixie Cove, listened to Jane’s podcast, nearly kissed in a bookshop and talked to Mr Beaver about Pearl.
My body started to tremble. They felt like tiny and inconsequential shifts.
The afterlife will soon get bored of this approach.
As Pearl changed the conversation and talked about one of her friends, Clark’s hand found mine.
His fingers wrapped themselves around my fingers, and in a few seconds, my panic started to ease.
With heavy hearts we walked to his house.
‘You’re worried, aren’t you?’ he asks as he puts his key in the door.
I sigh and nod. ‘It’s frustrating. No one seems to be moving to our timeline.’
‘I know what you mean. I thought Pearl would have jumped at the chance to go and see him after what we told her.’
We step inside his house. ‘I just hope the afterlife understands.’
He wearily rubs his forehead. I notice his jaw has tightened and his face has become taut. ‘This is tough.’
I think of Mum. ‘At least Mum knows I started my vegetable patch, and we made a start on the upper floor of the café.’
He lets out a groan. ‘I still haven’t told my mother about Dad.’
We sit down beside each other on the sofa. I think about what he said earlier about what happened to his mum. ‘Do you really think your mum’s miscarriage contributed to your mum and dad splitting up?’
Clark rubs his face. ‘She stopped talking and became distant. Dad didn’t know what to say to her. It was tough.’
My phone buzzes in my pocket. I take it out and see a message from Ruth. I quickly explain to Clark. ‘Last night I messaged my friend about Mary’s book.’
‘Oh really?’
‘She’s got loads of followers. More than me. She’s text me to say she’s downloaded it on her Kindle and has started reading.’
‘You have experience of the book world,’ he says, quietly. ‘I should have asked for your advice when we started.’
I lift my gaze to his, and he smiles. ‘I should have asked for your advice too when Jane spoke about launching a podcast.’
For a few seconds, he holds my gaze, and I feel a fluttering in my chest.
We’re distracted by a strange cooing sound, followed by a steady flapping of wings. Clark stares in amazement. ‘Florence… look!’
I turn to see a fluffy white owl flying over to where we’re sitting.
My heart skips a beat as it comes to perch on Clark’s coffee table, the familiar rolled-up piece of white paper in its beak.
Its feathers glow with a soft radiance. We watch as it surveys us and then drops the message on the table.
With a soft coo it flaps its wings and flies towards the back of Clark’s house.
For a few moments, we stare at the rolled-up piece of paper.
Clark takes a deep breath and reaches over to grab it.
YOU’VE FAILED AGAIN! TIME IS RUNNING OUT.
Relief floods through us both. We both lie back and let out huge sighs.
‘Another chance,’ he says, with a smile.
I nod and feel a new burst of determination. ‘We need to do as many tasks as we can. No more sitting around like this.’
‘But I feel drained,’ he exclaims.
I rise from the sofa. ‘There’s work to be done. You need to talk to your mum.’
He lets out a groan. ‘Please don’t make me open that can of worms.’
I pat his shoulder. ‘Come on. Let’s give this our best shot.’
‘Where are you going?’ he asks.
‘Home, and I will be speaking to Ruth.’
I head for the front door. ‘See you at the café early tomorrow morning.’
‘Yes, boss,’ he says.
The second I’m in my house I FaceTime Ruth. She answers straight away. In her hand is a half-eaten chocolate muffin and there are crumbs scattered around her mouth. She holds up her Kindle. ‘I’ve started this weird book.’
‘Weird?’
She nods. ‘I’m two chapters in, and I am not getting any good-bookish vibes.’
I groan. ‘Ruth, you have to like Mary’s book.’
After another bite into her muffin, she shrugs. ‘I’ll do my best but I want you to know, Florence, that while I’m reading this I am missing out on my favourite author’s next book which arrived today.’
‘Ruth, I am begging you to keep reading.’
She arches her eyebrows and raises the remains of the muffin to the camera. ‘I’ll carry on demolishing this and wading through your friend’s guide to murder.’
Feeling physically and emotionally exhausted, I climb the stairs to bed.
It doesn’t take long for sleep to find me.
When I wake the next morning, I can see a message from Ruth. It was sent a few hours after I spoke to her.
I am giving up; this book is not for me. Sorry, Florence, life is too short to read a book you dislike. It’s not very well written, and I don’t understand the plot.
After screaming into the pillow, I decided to read the book myself.