“We have indeed, a wedding. You remember Libby? And this is my friend Dylan.”
“Of course I remember Libby. How’s your search going? I spread the word round to all the drivers I know; everyone was talking about you.”
“Ah, well, the search is over now,” Frank said, and Patience’s head snapped to look at him.
“Does that mean...?”
“I found her, yes,” Frank said. “I found my girl on the 88.”
Patience let out a whoop, causing a dozing passenger in the front seat to jolt awake.
“I’m so happy for you, Mr.Weiss,” she said. “And my parents will be too.”
They moved toward some empty seats at the back of the lower deck. Libby and Dylan sat in one pair and Frank sat across the aisle from them.
“Wasn’t that a wonderful evening?” he said as the bus set off.
“It was indeed.” Dylan glanced at Libby as he said this.
“I’m sorry I’m such a party pooper,” she said. “This little one has been pummeling the hell out of me this evening.”
“You need to start taking it easy, Libby,” Frank said.
“I will, I promise. There won’t be any more dancing for me until the baby’s here.”
The bus pulled up at a stop, and an older woman in a woolen hat stepped on board, greeting Patience. Libby watched Frank instinctively scan her face, and then he turned back to her.
“I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to stop checking. It’s hard to break a habit of sixty years.”
“Does it feel strange, finally knowing what happened to your woman?” Dylan said.
“A relief more than strange. I’m getting too old to be riding this bus every day anyway. Like Libby, I need to put my feet up more.”
“Have you played bingo yet?” Dylan said.
“No, I have not, you cheeky bugger,” Frank said, hitting his arm in mock outrage.
Dylan laughed, and Libby leaned back in her seat, enjoying the sound of the two of them chatting as the bus woundthrough Parliament Square. It felt wonderful to have Frank back in her life again. And Dylan... Libby thought of that smile earlier, the hotel bedroom waiting for the two of them, and felt a nervous flutter of excitement. It was followed by another sensation, a sharp stabbing in her lower stomach. She bent forward, inhaling.
“What’s wrong?” Dylan said. “What happened?”
“I don’t know. I think it might be Braxton-Hicks.”
“What are they?” Frank said.
“Like practice contractions. I’ve had them before, so it’s nothing alarming.” But as she said it, Libby felt her pulse starting to race. She was pretty sure Braxton-Hicks didn’t feel like this.
“Let’s get you straight to the hotel,” Frank said. “You probably just need some rest after a long day.”
“Okay,” Libby said.
She sat back and found Dylan’s arm round her shoulders. She leaned into him, inhaling his wonderful, familiar smell. But as they approached the Cenotaph, she felt another pang and gasped.
“We should go to the hospital, get you checked out,” Dylan said, reaching across Libby to ring the bell. “Let’s get off at the next stop and jump in a taxi; it’ll be quicker.”
“But my notes and hospital bag are in Surrey. I don’t have anything here.”
“Don’t worry about that,” Frank said. “I’m sure you won’t be needing all that tonight.”
