He shook his head slowly and Libby let out a gasp of realization.
“So that’s why you ride the bus, Frank?”
“I’ve been looking for her for sixty years.”
“Bloody hell.” She slumped back in her seat, suddenly exhausted.
“I told you it was a long story,” Frank said.
At his words, Libby looked out the window and saw they were driving past Hamleys toy shop. She must have missed her stop ages ago, and her hair appointment. Rebecca would kill her, but right now Libby couldn’t have cared less.
“That’s an extraordinary story, Frank.”
“Makes me sound daft, doesn’t it?”
“No! It makes you sound unbelievably romantic.”
“You’re being polite. And I haven’t done it solidly—there have been periods of months, years even, when I haven’t gonelooking for her. But somehow I always end up coming back to this bus.”
“But how do you know she’s still in London?”
“I don’t. For all I know, she might have left the city years ago or even have died. But something tells me she’s still alive, here in the city, and as long as I have that feeling, I can’t give up my search.”
As he said that, Libby saw him look out the front window toward the approaching bus stop, as if suddenly remembering the purpose of his journey.
“That’s why I always sit up here in the front seat,” he said, nodding toward the window. “It gives me the best view looking down on the bus stop, so I can see who’s getting on.”
“I can’t believe you’ve been searching all this time. That’s such an extraordinary commitment.”
“I wish everyone thought that. My daughter doesn’t approve at all.”
“You have a daughter?” From the way he’d told the story, Libby had got the impression that Frank had remained single, but he nodded.
“From an ill-fated affair in the seventies. Her mother and I worked together on a play, a terrible production ofMacbethin Sheffield. My daughter, Clara, was the only good thing to come out of it.”
“So you never married?”
“I had a number of relationships over the years, but I’m afraid none of them ever lasted. Clara always blames my girl on the bus.”
“Why?”
“She thinks I’ve never given any woman a proper chance,because I’m always out here searching for the one that got away.”
“And what do you think?”
Frank gave a small chuckle. “She’s probably right, although I’d never tell her that. For a long time I did compare every woman I met to that redheaded artist who stole my heart.”
“I’m not surprised. She sounds wonderful.”
“But you know, over the years, that’s changed. I’m not looking for her now because I want some grand love story. I’m far too old for that sort of thing. I’m looking for her because I want to thank her.” He turned back to Libby. “That girl on the bus changed my life. If it wasn’t for her, I’d have never had the confidence to stand up to my parents, never become an actor and lived the life I’ve had. So I want to say thank you.”
“Well, I think it’s the most romantic story I’ve ever heard.” As Libby said this, Simon flashed into her mind. Would he have tried to track her down if they’d been in the same situation? Or would he have forgotten about her the second she’d got off the bus?
“Sadly, Clara hates me riding this bus route. And pretty soon she might stop me altogether,” Frank said.
“Why?”
“My daughter wants me to move into a care home; she thinks I’m becoming a danger to myself. But if that happens, I won’t be allowed to ride the 88 anymore, and then they might as well put me in a box and bury me.”
