“Good luck with it all, love. And remember, you can’t control your birth, so don’t even try.”
“I won’t! Bye.”
Libby joined the passengers waiting to disembark. There was a woman with bags of shopping up ahead struggling to carry them all off the bus, and a queue was building up around her.
“Bacchus and Ariadne,”Libby heard muttered behind her. “How could I forget that?”
The shopper finally managed to get off, and Libby was caught up in the flow of passengers toward the bus door. As she disembarked, she was hit by a blast of cold wind from Trafalgar Square, and she pulled her collar up. The lights on the pedestrian crossing had turned green, and Libby stepped out into the road. It was almost twelve thirty now, so she had plenty of time to wander round the gallery, maybe even treat herself to lunch in the café. What should she go and see first?Frank had said the Renaissance rooms were his favorite, so maybe she should start there.
Libby reached the other side of the crossing and stepped up on the pavement, then stopped as something in her brain clicked.Bacchus and Ariadne.Why was that name ringing a bell? She’d heard it before; someone had told her about the painting.
Frank had told her about the painting.
Libby spun back round. The pedestrian lights had turned red and the traffic had started to move again. At the other side of the road, she could see the 88 bus driving past, and Libby caught a flash of the old woman. She lifted her arm and waved at the bus.
“Wait!” she shouted, but her voice got lost in the hubbub of Trafalgar Square.
Libby watched the bus crawl on toward Pall Mall. The traffic was heavy and the bus was moving slowly, but Libby could hardly rush through the vehicles and bang on the window. She knew from her excursions with Dylan that the 88 would turn right onto Waterloo Place and then stop by Charles II Street. If she ran, could she get there in time? Libby looked down at her stomach, so swollen she couldn’t see her own feet. Then she looked back up at the departing bus, took a deep breath, and started to run.
CHAPTER
43
It was almost two by the time Libby arrived at Frank’s house, out of breath after her hurried walk from the bus stop. She rang the bell, praying he would answer. As she waited, she felt a sharp kick from the baby. It usually fell asleep when she was walking, but clearly Libby’s excitement was contagious, and the little one was as nervous as she was. Perhaps Frank was out on the 88? Or maybe he’d moved already? Libby stepped forward and rang again. She waited for a minute, her foot tapping on the path, before her heart started to sink. Even with his slow shuffle, Frank would have answered the door by now if he was at home. Damn.
Libby reached into her bag for a piece of paper to scribble down a note asking Frank to call her back if he got it. As she went to post it through the letter box, she caught a glimpse inside through a pane of glass in the door.
The hall was empty. No coats on the rack, no furniture or rug as there had been last time she was here. Libby stepped off the path into the front garden and crossed to the window. There was an old net curtain pulled across it, but she could see through it well enough to make out the living room on theother side. Everything was gone: the stuffed bear, the suit of armor, the throne.
Frank had moved, and Libby had no idea where he’d gone. What was more, she had no way of contacting him, given his mobile phone always rang out. Her shoulders heavy, she turned and began to walk down the pavement, away from the house. But Libby had not made it more than ten steps when she heard a noise behind her and spun around.
“Frank!”
He looked older than Libby remembered, his face gaunt and his shoulders stooped. She hurried back to him.
“Frank, it’s me, Libby.”
“Libby?” His forehead wrinkled, and he lifted a hand to rub his chin. “I don’t know a Libby.”
“We met on the 88.”
“The what?”
Libby opened her mouth to answer, but then Frank looked at her, a twinkle in his eye. “Hello, trouble!”
“Frank! Jeez, you had me there.” Libby stepped forward and gave him a tight hug.
“The look on your face,” he said, laughing as he hugged her back. “I’m not completely doolally. At least not yet.”
“I thought you’d gone already. Your house...” Her voice trailed off.
“You’ve caught me just in time. I’m moving today.”
“Where?”
“Willow Court, the place is called; Clara chose it for me. Apparently they have bingo every Monday and movie night on a Friday. Lucky me.” His voice was thick with sarcasm.
“I’m so sorry, Frank.”
