“Thank you, but I’m not really in the mood for a party.”
“Neither am I, but it will do us both good. We can combine your birthday with a last hurrah for me before my assessment.”
Libby frowned. “Are you sure?”
“Yes. We’ll invite Dylan, of course, and Esme too. Are we okay to hold it at yours? My place is far too cluttered but I’ll bring champagne and we could...”
Libby watched Frank as he began listing suggestions. She’d never loved birthdays, and in recent years she and Simon had barely celebrated them. But Frank was right: they all needed something positive and fun in their lives right now, especially Frank. She reached into her bag, pulled out her sketchbook, and started to write a list.
CHAPTER
31
By eight p.m. on her birthday evening, Libby was dressed and busy in the kitchen. She’d bought a leg of lamb, at great expense, which was now roasting in the oven along with vegetables for a salad, and she was putting the final touches to a salsa verde. It was a pleasure to be making a proper meal again; Libby had always loved cooking, but Simon had tended to do all the “special” meals, leaving her with the dull weeknight suppers. Now she reveled in using every utensil and pan in the kitchen. Rebecca would have had a fit if she were here.
The doorbell rang, and Libby glanced in the hallway mirror as she went to answer it. She’d overcome her nerves and this morning had been to a local hairdresser, who had given her a stylish trim and blow-dry, so her usually chaotic curls now hung in sleek ringlets. Libby dabbed on a quick slick of lipstick, then opened the front door.
“Happy birthday!” Frank, Esme, and Dylan were standing on the top step, all grinning at her.
Frank, who was wearing his powder blue suit for the occasion, stepped forward first and gave Libby a bottle of champagne, a box of chocolates, and a kiss on the cheek. Behind him, Esme was wearing a floral jumpsuit, and she gave Libbya huge hug. Dylan was the last to come in. He was wearing his leather jacket but with a black collared shirt underneath, and he gave a small cough as he greeted Libby.
“Happy birthday,” he said. “You look lovely.”
Libby felt herself flush as she mumbled thanks and led them through to the garden.
“Isn’t this wonderful?” Frank said as they stepped outside. “Did you do all of this?”
Libby nodded. It was only a tiny garden but she’d spent most of the morning getting it ready. She’d cleared Hector’s toys off the patio and cleaned the table, decorating it with small vases of cut flowers. She’d dug Rebecca’s Christmas fairy lights out of the attic and suspended them along the back wall, and she’d also found two dozen tea lights, which she’d put in jam jars and glasses dotted round the garden. Now that the sun was starting to set, the whole space looked magical.
Dylan opened the bottle of champagne Frank had brought and soon the conversation was flowing. After one glass, Frank started regaling them with funny stories from his acting days, causing them all to cry with laughter. Libby served her roast lamb and warm vegetable salad, which everyone declared was a triumph, and while they ate, Esme excitedly shared with them the plans for her wedding in November. Libby listened, adding suggestions and ideas, but the whole time all she could think about was Dylan sitting across the table from her. A couple of times she glanced up and caught him watching her, but he always looked away. Still, Libby felt as if she had a swarm of butterflies circling inside her stomach, and she was pretty sure it wasn’t the baby wriggling.
When they’d finished eating, Frank cleared his throat.
“There’s something I want to tell you all,” he said, and waitedfor them to quieten. “First off, I wanted to apologize to Dylan. I know that I’ve been a bit down in the dumps lately, and I’m sorry if I’ve been grumpy with you.”
“You can say that again,” Dylan said, raising an eyebrow.
“That whole thing with that Ingrid woman completely threw me. I was so sure she was going to be my woman on the bus, and when she wasn’t... well, I felt humiliated, like a silly old fool.” Frank turned to Libby. “When we met for our walk, I’d just come off the phone from Clara. She’d been nagging at me about the care assessment, and I didn’t have the energy to fight her anymore. I wanted to quit.”
He picked up his glass, his hand shaking, and they all waited while he took a sip.
“But I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about this, and I’ve realized I was wrong. So I called Clara yesterday and told her I won’t go into the care home. I know that time will come eventually, but I’m not ready to give up on my independence just yet.”
“And what did she say?” Libby asked.
“She wasn’t delighted, as you can imagine. And she says I still have to have my care assessment on Tuesday, as it’s booked and she can’t cancel it. But Dylan’s going to be there for the assessment, and together we’ll show the social worker that I’m still perfectly capable of living at home and looking after myself. If I can prove that, then no one can make me move into a care home if I don’t want to.”
“And what about your hunt for the lady?” Esme said.
Frank smiled. “I took a trip out on the 88 today.”
“You and that bloody bus,” Dylan said, but he was smiling too.
“I know what you think, Dylan. But I promise you, I’m being more realistic now. I know that I’ll probably never find her, and that’s okay. I want to keep on looking while I still can.”
“Well, I think it’s wonderful.” Libby raised her glass. “To Frank and his independence!”
They all raised their glasses and chinked.
