CHAPTER
46
Two weeks later, Libby caught the train back up to London. She hadn’t intended to come up again before the baby was born, but the decision had been made for her by Esme, who’d sent Libby a text message the previous week.
I visited Frank who told me he saw you. My wedding is this Saturday. Johnny is excited to meet you. There will be karaoke and dancing! E xx
Libby had considered replying saying she was busy and couldn’t make it, but she hadn’t the heart to let Esme down. Besides, the wedding gave her the perfect excuse to skip the second part of the NCT course, much to Simon’s annoyance.
Rather than get off the train at Vauxhall today, Libby disembarked at Clapham Junction instead. From there, she walked ten minutes to a row of flats with neat front gardens and rang on the bell of number twelve.
Peggy answered the door, beaming at her. “It’s good to see you again, love. Here, give me your bag and come on in. Frank’s already here.”
She showed Libby into a small sitting room and then disappeared to make tea. It was a cozy room, with an old floral settee in front of a TV, a sewing bag resting on a table with its contents spilling out. But what was most striking were the framed pictures that hung on every wall. Most of them were paintings, bright slashes of abstract color, like fireworks against the white walls. Frank was standing looking at one of them, dressed in his blue suit, his back to Libby. She walked over to join him, and for a moment he didn’t seem to notice her presence.
“They’re extraordinary, aren’t they?” he said eventually.
“I’ve never seen anything like them,” Libby said, and she meant it.
The painting Frank was studying looked, at first glimpse, like a large splash of green paint. But when she looked closer, Libby saw that there were actually dozens of different shades of green in there, hundreds of small, delicate strokes making up the larger block. The only other color was a small blob of red at the top right of the canvas.
“You’re having a gallery tour, I see,” Peggy said when she came back in.
“Are they yours?” Frank asked.
Peggy let out a laugh. “No, love. These are Percy’s.”
Next to her, Libby heard Frank take a sharp breath.
“Quite something, aren’t they?” Peggy came over to join them.
“They’re absolutely stunning,” Frank said. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the painting in front of them.
“This one’s calledOn Parliament Hill,” Peggy said.
“Is that a kite?” Libby pointed to the small splatter of red.
Peggy nodded. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s also one of thelast Percy ever painted. Her Alzheimer’s was pretty bad by this point and some days she could barely get out of bed. But that morning, she picked up a brush and started painting for the first time in months. For those few hours, it was like the old Percy was back.”
Libby glanced at Peggy and saw she was looking at the painting, her eyes misty. Then Peggy gave a small cough.
“Come on, let’s have a cup of tea before it goes cold, shall we?”
It turned out a cup of tea at Peggy’s also involved an elaborate spread of food, including triangular-cut sandwiches, homemade Victoria sponge cake, and a sherry trifle large enough to feed a dozen. While they ate, Frank told them about his new home, Willow Court.
“It smells of boiled cabbages and they make you eat at the most ridiculous times,” he grumbled. “And I’ve already had a stand-up row with the matron because she told me off for changing the TV channel the other night. I said to her, ‘Everyone else here is asleep in their chairs. Why can’t I watch David Attenborough instead of the stupid soaps?’ ”
“Oh, I love the soaps,” Peggy said. “This place sounds right up my street; maybe I should come live there too.”
“Well, it’s not all bad, I suppose,” Frank said grudgingly. “They do serve rather delicious puddings. And I have to admit, I don’t miss all the stairs. Plus, I have been sleeping better since I moved there.”
“Maybe they have a better bed?” Libby said.
“It could be that. Or maybe it’s something else.” Frank looked up at them both. “Maybe it’s because I finally know what happened to my girl on the bus?”
Libby couldn’t help but exhale in relief. She’d spent the past fortnight worrying that she’d done the wrong thing by takingFrank to meet Peggy; that the news that his girl on the bus was gone, alongside his move to a new home, might have been too much for him. But as he helped himself to seconds of trifle, she could see that it had had quite the opposite effect.
“Right, we should be heading off,” Frank said once he’d finished his third helping. “Thank you for having us, Peggy.”
