Chapter 34
CLARK
Jane answers the door and immediately frowns when she sees me. ‘I thought you were going to watch Jack?’
I flick my eyes to the floor. ‘Jane, I fell asleep on my sofa, and I didn’t set an alarm. If you must know, I haven’t been sleeping at night. I’m so sorry.’
‘It’s okay,’ she says, ‘I know all about sleep issues.’
I lift my gaze, and she smiles. ‘I’ll speak to Jack.’
‘Could I talk to him?’ I ask. ‘He won’t let me off easily, but I’m prepared to try and get him to forgive me.’
She casts me a pained look. ‘Jack is like his father. He’ll be in a dark mood with you for days.’
I need to make it up to him. ‘Can I please try? Is he home?’
With a smile, she lets me in and shouts up the stairs. ‘Jack, Clark is here to see you.’
Jack responds via a series of angry bangs and thuds. He follows these by yelling, ‘I don’t want to speak to him.’
I glance at Jane, who mouths, ‘I did warn you.’
With a shrug, I turn to leave but spot her microphone and notes on the coffee table. ‘How’s The Lonely-Hearts podcast?’
She grins. ‘I’ve had over two hundred listens and received more emails than I expected. I even posted a link on the local town’s Facebook group which took a lot of bravery.’
‘Two hundred – wow,’ I exclaim, running a hand through my hair. ‘I don’t think I ever got that for an episode.’
She nods and fiddles with her fringe. ‘Earlier, I went to see my mum, who’s in hospital. She has no idea what a podcast is, but she urged me to record more, so I’m about to work on episodes two and three.’
‘Jane, this is brilliant.’
‘There are a lot of lonely people out there.’ She points to her notes. ‘Do you have time for a cuppa? I could do with your advice on which emails to read out.’
‘Sure.’ I go and sit on her sofa while she makes us a cup of tea.
When she returns, she hands me a collection of emails she’s printed out. ‘Read them and let me know what you think.’
I take a sip of my tea and start reading the first one.
It’s from a guy who wants to be known as BlueSpottedUnicorn, who has been cruelly dumped by his boyfriend and has been struggling to live alone in the flat they once shared.
To make matters worse, his ex has taken full custody of their lively pet rat and left him with two goldfish who swim away whenever he tries to talk to them.
‘Blimey, BlueSpottedUnicorn is in a bit of a state.’
Jane nods. ‘I like his email. It makes my chest ache when I think of this guy all alone in this empty flat, heartbroken and trying to talk about his feelings with two uninterested fish.’
I read the last bit of the email. ‘His Pot Noodle for One party sounds funny, and I think fans of your show might relate to his “I Hate You” eighties-style mix tape that he sent his ex.’
Jane smiles. ‘He’s caught my attention. I think his email will be the first one I read out for episode two.’
The next two emails are sad, and I feel for both the listeners who are going through their own form of loneliness hell.
The fourth is from a woman who refers to herself as SecretSpeedoLover.
She’s written a lengthy account of how her husband passed away three years ago and how she’s struggling to live alone in their three-bedroom house now all their children have moved out.
She’s developed strong feelings for a man who manages a snooker hall and wants to go on holiday to Tenerife with him, but her daughter is against the idea.
The woman feels like she’s losing her zest for life.
She also says that she can’t stop thinking about the choice of Speedos her new love has bought for the holiday.
I’m about to move on and read the next email when my eyes flick to the top.
The name on the email address is familiar – Yvonne Hill. I gasp. That’s Florence’s mother.
Wow – she must mean Steve at the snooker place.
Harry and I used to go to play snooker there all the time. He always had a joke with Steve when we went. I’m sure that if Harry is looking down on us, he’d give Yvonne the thumbs up. Steve’s a lovely chap.
So why does Florence not want her mum to move on?
‘Is that email number four?’ Jane asks.
I nod. ‘Yes.’
‘I don’t think I should read that one out. I might go for email number two where the man is missing his late sheepdog.’
In my head, I picture Harry and Florence working together in the café.
I always used to sit and watch them. They were like a funny double act.
Florence idolised her father. I could tell by the way she looked up at him and laughed at all his jokes.
She’s missing him, and I think she’s unconsciously stopping her mum from moving on.
An idea pings into my brain. Is this email a sign that I need to help Florence?
If I can get her to listen to the podcast, she might realise how lonely her mother is and perhaps start to accept Steve as being part of her life.
‘Jane, you should read number four.’
‘Really?’
‘It’s relatable. Moving on after your loved one dies and how your family can react.’
‘I’m in a similar position.’ Jane sighs. ‘This podcast has finally made me feel like myself again. Last night I even went on a dating site. I just wanted to have a look. Jack came down the stairs and caught me on it. He went mad.’
She pauses for a moment and we sit in a comfortable silence.
‘When are you thinking of getting episode two out?’ I ask.
‘I’m going to record when you leave, so tonight. I record in my broom cupboard.’
That makes me chuckle. ‘Really?’
‘It cuts out all the background noise.’
‘You said you were feeling better. Do you think the podcast has helped?’
I watch a goofy smile spread across her face. ‘It’s given me something to focus on. I’m proud of myself for taking the first step. It was so scary putting it live, but I’m glad I did.’
‘I know that feeling of terror when you hit “publish”.’
She laughs. ‘It felt like I did when I was back in school, and the teacher would read out what I had written.’
‘Jane, I am pleased for you.’
‘You and Florence both helped me, and I will always be grateful.’
I drain my cup. ‘Think of us when you’re famous.’
‘Sorry about Jack.’
‘This will be my next project,’ I say with a wry smile. ‘Getting Jack to forgive me.’
She glances at the staircase. ‘Why don’t you come back tomorrow?’
I leave her house and hop over the little white fence to Florence’s. When she opens the door, she’s smiling. ‘Detective Holloway is on LinkedIn. She’s not retired and works for the Metropolitan Police. Come in.’
She steps aside and lets me in. Our arms brush as I pass, and she looks at me with a new intensity. Each time we hug, our grip tightens. It’s like we’re building up to something.
I want to feel her in my arms again.