“Oh, well, it had to happen eventually. I’ve been lucky itwas full, so I got an extra few months here. But some poor sod must have popped their clogs, because a room became free.”
“Are you going now?”
“In a bit. Clara’s there at the moment, moving my stuff in. I asked for some time on my own in the house to say good-bye.”
Libby checked the time on her phone. “Frank, I know this might sound strange, but how would you feel about a quick walk up Parliament Hill?”
“What, now?”
“Yes. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
“I don’t know...” He stared at her for a moment. “Oh, go on, then. There’s no point in me moping round this empty place any longer. Let me leave a note for Clara and we’ll go.”
•••
THEY’Dbeen walking for twenty minutes when Libby realized the mistake she’d made. She’d underestimated how far it was from Frank’s to the top of the hill and how slow their progress would be. Frank’s footsteps were small and shuffling, and every couple of hundred meters, he had to stop for a rest.
“Frank, maybe we should head home now? Clara must be coming to get you soon,” Libby said as she saw the final, steepest part of the ascent ahead of them.
“It’s fine; she can wait.”
“We could come back another time, with a wheelchair?”
Frank scoffed. “I’ve been climbing this hill for fifty-odd years. Anyway, didn’t you say you wanted me to meet someone?”
“Yes, but we can rearrange for another day.”
“Nonsense. We’re almost there now.”
He pushed on forward, but Libby could tell how much the climb was taking out of him. Several times his feet stumbled,and Libby had to grab his arm to steady him. Sweat was forming on his brow, but his mouth was pursed in determination.
“Frank—”
“I can do it,” he said through gritted teeth. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get to walk up here again, Libby. Please, let me do it this one last time.”
CHAPTER
44
PEGGY
From my spot at the top of the hill, I can see the pair of them coming. The man, who must be Frank, has wild hair all over the place and he’s leaning on Libby’s arm, his face bright red. Jesus, it would be just my luck if he croaked it on the way to meet me, wouldn’t it?
It takes him bloody ages, and by the time he gets to me, he collapses on the bench, huffing and puffing. Libby sits down on the other side of him, and I can tell she’s worried he’s about to cark it too. But eventually he catches his breath, and then he turns to look at me.
I see him taking me in: the silver hair, the old-lady clothes, my shopper, and I can tell he’s disappointed. Well, what the hell did he expect, Doris bloody Day? He’s hardly an oil painting himself. And then he holds out his hand to me, and I can see it’s shaking and I recognize it straightaway. Well, I would, wouldn’t I, love, after everything we’ve been through?
“Hello,” he says to me. “I’m Frank Weiss.”
So I say hello back, and tell him my name.
“Peggy,” he says, rolling the word round his mouth like he’s testing to see what it tastes like.
And then he doesn’t say anything, just sits staring into the distance, like he’s drifted off somewhere else entirely. So I don’t say anything either. I just look out too, take in this view I know so well. My beautiful London.
You know, I still have one of the first sketches I did up here, back in the days when I was still drawing. It’s of this very view, although you’d hardly recognize it now. That was back when St. Paul’s Cathedral was still one of the tallest buildings in the city, can you believe? Now the poor thing’s dwarfed by the Shard and the Gherkin and all those other fancy skyscrapers they’ve built. Not that I mind. You know me, love. I’ve never been one to care about things changing. And this city of ours is the best kind of shape-shifter.
There’s a cough to my left, and I turn back to see Frank looking at me. His face is a normal color now, thank god.
