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 on 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 forwards and rang again. She waited for another 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 if he got this. As she went to post it through the letter box, she caught a glimpse of 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 the other side. Everything was gone: the stuffed bear, the suit of armour, the throne.
Frank had moved, and Libby had no idea where he’d gone. What’s 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! Geez, 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.’
‘Oh well, it had to happen eventually. I’ve been lucky it was 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 goodbye.’
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 me moping round this empty place any longer. Let me leave a note for Clara and we’ll go.’
*
They’d been walking for twenty minutes when Libby realised 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 metres 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 forwards, 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.’