“Do you want me to come up there now? I could stay for the—”
“No!” Frank shouted, startling Libby. “It’s Dylan I need. He knows everything, my medication and routine. He has to be here so the social worker will know I’m fine.”
Libby could hear the panic rising in his voice. “It’s okay, calm down. I’m sure there’s a good explanation. Do you have an address for Dylan, and I can try going to his house?”
“I do... somewhere. What’s that smell?”
“What smell?”
“Oh, where’s Dylan? Everything’s going wrong today.”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come up there now, Frank?”
“No. I’d better go.”
“Okay, good luck with your—” But she didn’t get to finish the sentence because the line went dead.
Libby checked the time again: it was nine forty-five, so Dylan was now half an hour late. Where the hell was he? He of all people knew how important today was for Frank. What if something bad had happened to him? Or perhaps there was a perfectly good explanation for this? Whatever it was, she needed to track Dylan down so he didn’t miss Frank’s assessment.
A thought occurred to Libby, and she dialed the number Esme had given her. When the young woman answered, Libby explained what was going on.
“Dylan never misses work,” Esme said.
“When did you last see him?”
“Yesterday. We went to get him a suit for my wedding.”
“And how did he seem?”
“Sad. He was worrying about you.”
Libby’s stomach contracted. “Did he say that?”
“No, he didn’t have to, Libby. I’m very good at reading people.”
“This is so weird,” Libby said. “Do you have his address?”
“Yes. I’ll text it to you now.”
When the address arrived, Libby put the postcode into Google Maps, which showed her a spot near Regent’s Park. It was right on the 88 bus route, Libby realized. How strange that Dylan had never pointed out where he lived, given they’d ridden the bus past there so many times. But then, he’d never told her anything about his home life; Libby didn’t even know if he lived alone or with flatmates. She wavered for a moment. Was this mad, turning up uninvited at his flat? Then she remembered Frank’s tone on the phone, the rising panic in his voice at the thought of having to do the assessment without Dylan. An 88 bus was approaching, and Libby stuck out her arm and signaled for it to stop.
Twenty minutes later, she got off the bus on Albany Street, at the exact stop where she and Dylan had first started putting up posters. The address for his flat was in a large housing estate that stretched back from the main road. Libby followed the directions on her phone down Robert Street, past long, squat buildings with external walkways running along each of the upper floors. Finding the entrance marked “200–350,” she opened it and headed up to the second floor. As she walked past the row of identical front doors, the occasional sound of voices or music drifted out from inside. Libby stopped when she reached number 278. Net curtains were drawn across the window, and there was no immediate sign of life inside. Taking a deep breath, she rang the bell.
Within seconds there was an explosion of barking so loud that Libby jolted. Dylan had never mentioned he had a dog. There was a banging sound and the door rattled as the animal threw itself against it from the inside, and Libby stepped away in case it burst through. Then she heard a man’s voice on the other side of the door shouting at the dog. This was clearly notDylan’s flat; Esme must have given her the wrong address. Libby was about to turn and walk away when she heard a scraping sound, and then the door opened to reveal a man dressed in tracksuit bottoms and a saggy sweatshirt, gray stubble lining his face. There was scrabbling and a whining sound behind him, suggesting the dog was still nearby and trying to get out.
“What do you want?” the man snapped.
“I’m so sorry to disturb you. I must have the wrong flat.” Libby started to walk away.
“Who you looking for?” the man called after her.
“Eh, Dylan. Dylan...” She realized with a start that she didn’t know his surname.
“He lives here,” the man said with a sniff. “Why you looking for him?”
“Well, he was supposed to meet me this morning and he didn’t turn up for his work either, so—”
The man let out a bark of a laugh. “Let me guess. He got you in this state, did he?” He nodded at Libby’s baby bump.
