“But I know she’s still here in this city,” Frank interrupted. “Even if I’ve never seen her, I sense her all the time: the laugh of a woman in a café, a flash of red hair on an underground escalator. I wouldn’t have spent all this time looking for her if I wasn’t certain she’s somewhere nearby.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“I know I am. And now all it will take is for her to see a poster or pick up a copy of theMetro, or someone to mention it to her, and we’ll be reunited. Just in time...” Frank trailed off again, and when Libby looked at him, he was staring out of the window.
“What do you mean?” she said.
“What?” He looked round at her.
“You said you’ll be reunited just in time.”
“Did I?”
“Has something happened?”
Frank rubbed his forehead, and Libby could tell he was trying to remember. Then he shook his head and let out a sigh of frustration. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s okay, take your time.”
“It scares me, Libby. I keep forgetting things, silly little things. I’m an actor, for god’s sake. I used to be able to recite the whole of the Duke of Gloucester’s soliloquy inHenry VI. But now...”
He stopped and turned to face her, and Libby could see his face was full of doubt.
“What if I wake up one day and I can’t remember my girl on the bus?”
“Oh, Frank. I’m sure that won’t happen.”
“But my memory is getting worse every day. She might get lost in there, like so many other things. And then I’ll never get her back.”
“I’m sure you won’t forget her. Not after all this time.”
Frank shook his head. “My daughter has been preparing me for the worst. She says this dementia means that one day I won’t even remember my own name.”
This was the first time Libby had heard Frank use the word “dementia.”
“I’m so sorry you’re having to go through this, Frank. It’s not fair.”
“Clara’s been on at me about the care assessment again. I’ve been having these funny turns and she wants to set one up for next month.”
“And what do you think about that?”
Frank took a deep breath before he answered. “I think we need to find my girl, Libby. Time is running out.”
•••
“SO,do you want to know where we’re going today?” Frank said as the bus reached the bottom of Haymarket.
“Yes, please.”
“I decided it was about time you finally revisited the National Gallery. You’ve been in London for weeks now; it’s crazy you’ve still not been.”
“Oh, amazing, Frank, thank you!”
“I thought we could start with the Renaissance masterpieces on the second floor, visit my old friends Bacchus and Ariadne, and then stop for lunch in the café. After that we can pop down to see the Monets and Renoirs on the ground floor,” Frank said as the bus turned left toward Trafalgar Square.
“You clearly know the place inside out, so I’m in your hands.”
“Well, I’ve been visiting for sixty years, ever since my girl on the bus first told me about it, so I do know it pretty well. I was so intimidated to begin with; I didn’t dare tell any of my friends in case they laughed at me. But now I’ve been to art galleries round the world, and this is one of the finest.”
