CHAPTER
36
PEGGY
I’ve some news, love. Not good news, I’m afraid, although it rarely is when you get to our age.
Eileen from number eighteen passed away.
The first I knew about it was when I saw an ambulance turn up and paramedics go into her flat on Saturday. Then an hour later I saw them coming out with a stretcher, and her son, Jeremy, was there, looking all pale faced. I wanted to go up and talk to him, check he was all right, but bloody Betty Fincher swooped in there first.
Later, she told me that apparently Eileen had a heart attack sometime on Friday, and Jeremy found her when he went round to see her on Saturday morning. But I don’t know if that’s true; Betty’s never been the most reliable source.
Still, I’m not gonna lie, Percy: it sent chills through me when she said that. As you well know, it’s always been my biggest fear, something like that happening and no one being there to find me. And it’s not as if David comes round regularly to check on me, like Eileen’s son does. I could be there for... Well, it doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?
I saw Eileen last week, in Asda. She stopped me in the freezer aisle to show me the swimsuit she’d bought for her trip to Dubai with Jeremy. I pretended to admire it, but really, I was looking over her shoulder to see which was cheaper, the frozen cod or the haddock. She’ll never get to use that swimsuit now. Shame, it looked expensive.
I called David on Saturday night, just to check in and see how he is. He said he couldn’t chat for long, as he and Emma were going out for dinner. I told him what had happened with Eileen but I’m not sure he heard me. He said he’d call back on Sunday for a proper chat, so I stayed in all day waiting, but he must have been busy, ’cos he never got round to it. Perhaps he’ll call today.
Sorry. I know I’m sounding a bit maudlin. I don’t know what’s wrong with me but I’ve felt knackered all week, a proper bone-aching tired. I nearly didn’t come up here ’cos I felt so exhausted. And I know what you’ll say, love, that I should have stayed at home and rested rather than trek all the way here. But honestly, if I don’t come here, then I don’t have anyone else to talk to, apart from the odd stranger on the bus.
Jesus, that makes me sound like a pathetic old bugger, doesn’t it?
Maybe I should book a trip to Dubai. I’ve never been abroad, after all. Or New York. You’ve always said I’d love it there. Imagine what David and Emma would say if I told them I was going to New York on my own. They’d never believe it!
Maybe you could come with me too, love? I mean, it’s not a totally absurd idea. You’ve been before, after all, so you could show me the sights. Percy and Peggy in New York together, painting the city red. That would be a lot of fun, wouldn’t it?
CHAPTER
37
Libby arrived at the bus stop outside Kentish Town Station at nine fifteen on the dot. She’d spent the past eighteen hours replaying Simon’s suggestion in her head. The whole thing was completely ridiculous, so why the hell hadn’t she said no yesterday and got it over and done with? Because you’re scared of having this baby on your own, a voice in Libby’s head kept saying. Wouldn’t it be easier to live with Simon and have his help, rather than trying to carve out a new life in London on your own?
And then there was eccentric, surprising, dark-eyed Dylan. Libby thought about the way he’d looked at her on Saturday night, the feel of his lips on her neck, the offer he’d made to help her. She glanced up Highgate Road, waiting to see his tall profile strolling toward the bus stop. Frank had told her yesterday that his care assessment was at twelve o’clock, so Dylan should have a couple of hours between his regular morning visit to Frank and needing to get back there for the assessment. Perhaps they could go to one of the cafés on Kentish Town Road, or walk up to the heath? Wherever they went, Libby had promised herself she’d tell Dylan everything: she didn’t want to hide things from him anymore; he deserved to know the whole messy truth. She glanced back up the road. Still nosign of Dylan. Libby checked her phone and saw it was nine twenty-five. He usually messaged if he was running late, but when she looked at WhatsApp, she saw that he hadn’t been online since seven o’clock the previous evening.
At nine thirty-five, Libby pulled out her phone again and dialed Dylan’s number. She held her breath as she waited for him to answer, imagining the sound of his deep voice. But the phone rang and rang and eventually clicked into an automated voice mail. She hung up before the tone and then called Frank’s number.
Frank answered on the fifth ring, his voice bellowing down the line. “HELLO?”
“Frank, it’s Libby.”
“This isn’t a good time, Libby. I’m sorry.”
“I was wondering if Dylan has left yours yet.”
“No, he hasn’t turned up this morning.”
“What?”
“He’s never done this before. And today... I need him today.” Frank’s voice wobbled.
“Did he call and say why?”
“It’s my care assessment; my daughter will be here soon. Dylan promised he’d be here to help me.”
“I’m sure he’ll turn up for the assessment, Frank; please try not to worry. Maybe he overslept?” Libby knew she didn’t sound very convincing.
“I need him here today.”
