“Why?”
Dylan paused and ran a hand over the shaved part of his head.
“The thing is... Frank’s got dementia.”
Libby’s eyes went wide. “What?”
“He was diagnosed last year but he refuses to admit it. That’s why his daughter employed me, so there’s someone to check in on him twice a day, make sure he’s taking his medsand eating properly. But recently he’s been having these episodes where he blanks out.”
“Oh my god.”
“And that’s why Clara wants to get him assessed, ’cos she’s worried he might have one of these episodes when he’s at home alone or out on the bus, and then who knows what could happen to him?”
Libby had realized Frank was a bit forgetful, but she’d had no idea it was as bad as dementia. “Surely that’s all the more reason to try and find this woman, before his dementia gets much worse.”
“Do you really, honestly believe that a couple of posters are gonna help track down one eighty-year-old woman in a city of nine million people?”
Libby felt a prickle of anger at his defeatist tone. “But isn’t it better to try than give up? I mean, even if there’s only the tiniest chance of me finding her, surely that hope is better than nothing.”
Dylan sighed. “I’m just worried about Frank’s expectations. He’s convinced himself that you’re going to find his woman and that will solve all his problems and they’ll live happily ever after. You should have heard him this morning, talking like it was a matter of days before they were reunited. And I’m worried that when that doesn’t happen, he won’t be able to cope with the disappointment. His mental health is fragile enough as it is.”
Libby felt a sinking sensation. “So are you saying I should stop looking for her?”
“No, I’m not saying that,” Dylan said in a gentle tone she’d not heard him use before. “I know you want to help Frank, and that’s brilliant—he’s been more cheerful this week than I’veseen him in months. I’m just saying we need to be careful to manage his expectations so that when you inevitably don’t find his girl on the 88, the disappointment doesn’t crush him.”
Libby didn’t say anything as Dylan’s words sank in. Frank had been so excited when she’d offered to help him. But what if Dylan was right and she didn’t trace Frank’s woman? She’d had no idea he was unwell; what if her search failed and made him worse? Libby took a deep breath. She would have to make sure her search wasn’t a failure, then; the alternative was too awful to consider.
“Hector, the next stop is ours,” Libby said as the announcement came over the loudspeaker that they were approaching Oxford Circus.
“Isn’t Dylan coming too?”
“No, he isn’t.”
“Oh, please!” Hector grabbed Dylan’s arm. “Libby says once we finish putting up posters, then we can go to the Lego store. We could look at theStar WarsLego together and I could show you theNinjagoone I want for my birthday?”
“Hector, Dylan has somewhere he needs to be,” Libby said firmly.
“Actually, I don’t,” Dylan said.
Libby looked at him, aghast. “It’s fine, honestly; you don’t have to humor Hector.”
“Yay, come! Come!” Hector said, bouncing up and down in his seat.
“I don’t have to be at my next job for a couple of hours,” Dylan said. “I don’t mind helping you for a bit. If you want?”
Libby frowned. The last thing she wanted was to spend more time with Dylan, when their first effort at putting up posters had been so awkward and hostile and—
“Okay, fine.”
Libby thought she saw the tiniest hint of a smile on Dylan’s face, but he stood up too fast for her to be sure and rang the bell to stop the bus.
•••
ITtook them almost two hours to walk from Oxford Circus to Piccadilly Circus. Dylan completely ignored Libby’s spreadsheet, and rather than doing one side of the road and then the other, he zigzagged them back and forth across Regent Street to post up posters on either side. They were also slowed down by Hector, who insisted on taking them on a detour to Carnaby Street and then into Hamleys toy shop. Libby was impatient to hurry up so they could finish today’s section of the route and get home for lunch, but once Hector had found the Lego floor, he and Dylan spent half an hour exclaiming over the different sets. Eventually they made it out of the shop, but then two separate sets of tourists stopped Dylan and asked if they could have their photo taken with him. Libby waited for him to roar at them, but to her bewilderment, he obliged. By the time they made it down to Piccadilly Circus, it was well past twelve.
“Auntie Libs, I’m hungry,” Hector said. “Did you bring me any food?”
“Sorry. I didn’t think we’d be this long. I’m sure we can find something round here.”
