“What was going on back there with the police?” Libby asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You seemed so angry.”
Dylan stretched his long legs out in front of them. “I dunno, I always get that way around the cops. They’ve given me so much trouble over the years, stopping and searching me and my mates just ’cos of the way we dress. I guess it’s made me pretty suspicious of them.”
“But those two seemed all right. I mean, it turns out we were breaking the law and all they asked was for us to take the posters down.”
“But it’s wrong. You know the only reason we can’t post things is ’cos the big corporations don’t want us covering their precious adverts, which con people into spending money they don’t have on crap they don’t need. And yet you and me, who are actually trying to do something good, are treated like the baddies. It’s bollocks.” He leaned back against the wall and sighed.
Libby stretched her legs out next to his, their shoes almost touching. “Do you reckon they’ll rip all our posters down?”
“Maybe, but I can come back and replace them tomorrow.”
“This could go on forever, you realize. You and me riding the 88, replacing posters that get pulled down.”
“Like painting the Forth Bridge, a job that never finishes.”
“We’ll be like Frank, still doing it when we’re eighty, out on the bus every day.”
“Come on, Libby, dear.” Dylan put on an exaggerated old person’s voice. “Time to catch the 88, we’ve got more posters to put up.”
“All right, Dylan, let me put my teeth in and I’m coming,” Libby croaked, and Dylan threw back his head in laughter.
“Can you imagine?” she said when his laughter had died down.
“Yeah, that’s probably not a good idea. I guess we should stop when we’ve done this last bit; otherwise we never will.”
This was the first time either of them had mentioned the imminent end of their project, and for a moment neither of them spoke.
“So... I guess that means we’ll be finished soon?” Libby said.
“Well, you’re the one with the spreadsheet, but I reckon one more trip should do it.”
They didn’t look at each other, both studying the bins opposite. When would they see each other again once they’d finished? Libby wondered. They might bump into each other through Frank, but the chances of that were pretty slim. She thought of the electricity she’d felt a moment ago, the feeling of Dylan’s body so close to hers, and she felt her face getting hot again.
“You must be looking forward to your life getting back to normal,” Dylan said.
“I’m not sure my life will ever be normal again.” As soon as Libby said it, she regretted her choice of words. “I mean, what with everything that’s happened to me recently,” she added quickly.
“Of course.” Dylan was staring at his boots. “Have you got any thoughts about what you’ll do next?”
“To be honest, I have no idea. I need to find somewhere to live and a new job. These past few weeks helping Frank have been a wonderful distraction, but I have to start making some decisions.”
“Might you move back to Surrey?” Dylan said it innocently, but Libby could hear his question mark hanging in the air.
“That’sdefinitelynot happening.”
“Oh, okay... Look, if you don’t mind me asking, what happened between you and your ex?”
They’d skirted round this conversation before, but Libby had always found ways to change the subject. Now she paused, trying to work out how best to explain.
“Simon and I had been together for eight years and he got bored of me. We’d got stuck in a bit of a rut, and Simon said it was all too dull and predictable. He said he wanted more from his life than I could give him.”
She heard Dylan inhale next to her, but he didn’t say anything.
“We’d always been a bit of an unlikely couple,” Libby continued. “Simon is this rugged, outdoorsy type; he’s never happier than when he’s playing rugby in the pouring rain on a Saturday morning. And I like spreadsheets and color-coded maps, as you well know.” She laughed at this, but Dylan didn’t join in.
