“You really think people are gonna stop and read this?” Dylan said, and the smile disappeared from Libby’s face.
“I do, yes.”
“And you think they’re going to... what? Tell all their elderly female relatives about it? Tweet about it? Put their lives on hold to help with your search?”
Libby took a deep breath. “It’s notmysearch; it’s for Frank. Besides, not everyone is as miserable, mean-spirited, and misanthropic as you. Some people are actually altruistic and wantto help strangers, rather than take the piss or shout at them on the bus.”
She stopped, waiting for Dylan to snap something back at her, but he didn’t say anything. When Libby turned to look at him, he was staring at his feet.
“Let’s get on with it, shall we?” he mumbled.
They carried on without speaking. After a while they settled into a sort of rhythm, where Dylan would take out a poster and position it and Libby would tape it into place. They’d then walk on to the next lamppost or bus stop, never making eye contact or touching. After about forty-five minutes, they’d put up around fifteen posters and still not said a word to each other, and Libby was exhausted from the frosty tension.
“That’s enough for today,” she said when they reached the bus stop near the Euston Road.
“I thought you said you wanted to do a mile in each direction?”
“I can’t today. I need to get back to Kentish Town.”
“Well, I’m going the other way.”
Libby felt a wave of relief that she wouldn’t have to spend another minute with Dylan. His height might make him useful for holding up the posters, but she’d much rather do the rest alone, even if it took three times as long. She turned and hurried toward the zebra crossing.
“Bye, then,” Dylan called after her, but she didn’t bother looking back.
CHAPTER
11
Libby, where are you?” Rebecca’s voice came hollering up from downstairs.
“Coming.”
Libby pulled on her jeans, wincing at how tight they’d become. She really needed to cut back on all the chocolate croissants from the café. She quickly checked Twitter, but there was still nothing with the “girl on the 88 bus” hashtag. Damn it.
Down in the kitchen, Libby found Hector eating his breakfast and watching something on the iPad. It turned out Rebecca’s no-screens rule didn’t apply when she was the one doing the childcare.
“I’ve had a text from Hector’s preschool,” Rebecca said, looking up from her phone. “Apparently there’s been a suspected gas leak on the grounds, and they’re having to close today while it’s investigated.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure he’ll be delighted to have a day off.”
“I have my Wednesday team meeting, which I can’t cancel, and Tom’s got a pitch, so you’ll have to look after him.” Having issued her command, Rebecca started to walk away.
“I’m afraid I can’t,” Libby said.
“Why not?”
“I’m busy. I have plans.”
Rebecca turned back and arched an eyebrow. “Leonardo DiCaprio and a family-sized bar of Dairy Milk don’t count as plans.”
“Actually, I’m—” Libby stopped. She was going on her second trip to put up posters this morning, but she could hardly tell Rebecca that. Her sister would have a field day if she found out Libby was helping a random stranger on a London bus find his long-lost love.
“You’re what?” Rebecca said.
“Nothing. I can look after Hex.”
Rebecca nodded and marched out of the kitchen to get dressed. Hector looked up from his iPad. “Can we go to the zoo?”
