“Dylan sends his love,” Libby said, watching to see his reaction.
“That’s nice.”
“He starts on his Access to Nursing course in January. It turns out, helping to deliver a baby on a bus has got him over his blood phobia! Don’t tell him, but I’ve bought him a stethoscope for Christmas.”
Frank smiled at this, so Libby continued, encouraged.
“He’s at home with Frankie today. She’s trying to walk already. Can you believe it?”
“They grow up in the flash of an eye,” Frank said. “How old is she?”
“Thirteen months now. It was her birthday last month. Do you remember? We brought you some of her chocolate cake.”
“I bake an excellent chocolate cake; it’s my mother’s recipe. I baked one last week, actually.”
“Oh, wonderful. Have you been doing the baking class at Willow Court?”
“Willow Court? What’s that?”
“It’s where you live now, the care home.”
“I don’t think so. I live on Makepeace Avenue.”
“You moved last year, remember? You have that nice room with the view of the garden.”
Frank turned to look at Libby, frowning. “I’m sorry, but have we met before?”
Libby’s heart sank. For a while there, she’d really thought he remembered. “Yes, we have. I’m Libby.”
“Libby...” She could see him trying to place the name.“Are you one of Clara’s school friends? I’m sorry; you girls all look the same to me.”
“No, we met on this bus.” Libby watched Frank’s face to see if there was any flicker of recognition, but he was looking at her with his brow furrowed. “I drew you, Frank.”
“Are you an artist? I knew an artist once, years ago. We met on the bus too.”
“Your girl on the 88.”
“Yes, did you meet her as well?”
It had been months since Frank had mentioned the girl on the bus; Libby had assumed she’d been lost in the fog of dementia, along with so much else.
“What do you remember about her, Frank?”
“Oh, she was very beautiful. She had bright red hair, the most extraordinary I’ve ever seen. I have to admit, I rather fell for her. And then I lost her telephone number.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“She changed my life, that girl, and I never got to say thank you. I often wonder what happened to her.”
“I’m sure she lived a happy life. Perhaps she became an art teacher and grew old with her best friend.”
“Perhaps.” Frank was staring out of the front window again, and Libby could sense that he was slipping away.
“We’re looking forward to having you at our new place for Christmas.” Libby hoped that talking about the present might ground Frank, but he didn’t react. “Dylan’s cooking turkey and Peggy’s bringing a trifle. It’s going to be quite a party.”
Frank was sitting motionless now, his eyes staring blankly forward. Libby sank back in the seat, trying not to feel too disappointed. She’d hoped that being back on the 88 might help anchor him a little, but it didn’t seem to make any difference.Although at least they’d had some conversation today; there were times recently when she’d visited Willow Court and he hadn’t even registered her presence.
As the bus made its way down the side of the park, Libby pulled her sketchbook out of her bag and found a clean page. They’d been working on shading this term, and she tried to put her new skills into practice as she drew Frank now. She wished he could see how much she’d improved since her first drawing on the bus last year.
