WHEN LIBBY WOKE UP, it took her a moment to work out where she was. Light was coming in through a thin curtain above her head, so it must be morning. It was quiet, unnaturally so, and when she looked to her right she saw she was alone in the sparsely furnished room. Libby closed her eyes and leant back into her pillow, listening to the distant sounds of traffic below.
There was a noise from outside the door, a clatter and the low sound of voices. Libby closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
‘Shhh, don’t wake her up,’ said a voice, coming into the room.
There was the sound of footsteps padding across the floor and the edge of the bed creaked next to her. A second later, Libby felt something soft and warm against her skin.
‘Mama!’ came a high-pitched voice, and when Libby opened her eyes a small, chubby face was pressed against her own.
‘Frankie!’ she said, wrapping her arms round her daughter and kissing her. ‘You woke me up!’
Frankie let out a gurgle of delight and squirmed out of Libby’s arms, crawling across the bed away from her.
‘Morning, beautiful.’ Dylan had climbed into the bed next to Libby and leant over to kiss her. ‘Did you sleep all right?’
‘Like a log, thanks.’ She lifted up her head and Dylan stretched his arm under it, so that she was nestled against his chest. Frankie had settled between the two of them and was playing with her toy bunny.
‘What time did she wake up?’
‘Five,’ Dylan said, and Libby groaned.
‘We need to get thicker curtains for her bedroom ASAP.’
‘That’s top of my list of jobs, I promise.’
They’d moved into their new flat yesterday. Before this they’d been living in a studio flat near Euston Station, but now that Frankie had turned one they needed somewhere with a second bedroom. The flat wasn’t much bigger than the studio and the ceilings were so low that Dylan had to duck when he walked through the doors, but it had a small box room for Frankie, and with a lick of paint and some furniture, Libby was confident they could make it a proper home.
‘Are you still seeing Frank this afternoon?’ Dylan said, stroking her hair.
‘Yes, today’s the day for our bus outing.’
After weeks of negotiations with the team at the care home, Libby had managed to convince them to let her take Frank out on the 88 this afternoon. She was planning to take him down into town to see the Christmas lights on Regent Street, and maybe stop for a coffee somewhere.
‘Are you taking Frankie?’ Dylan asked.
‘It’s probably easiest if I leave her with you. Last time I took her on the bus, she spent the whole time trying to crawl up and down the aisle.’
‘That sounds like my little girl on the 88,’ Dylan said and laughed.
Frankie had abandoned her bunny and wriggled back up the bed towards them. Dylan scooped her up and blew a raspberry on her cheek, making her explode with giggles.
‘Shall we go to the park for a swing, little monkey?’ he said.
‘Ding!’ Frankie said, bouncing up and down to imitate the swing, and Libby and Dylan both laughed.
‘I think that’s a yes,’ Libby said, kissing Dylan.
*
They spent the morning unpacking some of their belongings, while Frankie crawled around their feet and tried to climb into all the boxes. The first thing they hung on the wall was a double picture frame that Dylan had given Libby for her thirty-first birthday. In the left-hand side was the sketch Libby had drawn of Dylan the first time they ever met on the 88, which it turned out he’d kept. In the right-hand side was the photo Libby had taken of Dylan that same day, the one which had caused him to shout at her. When Libby had opened the present, she’d suggested to Dylan that she could finally finish the drawing, but he’d refused, saying he wanted to keep it as it was, penis hair and all.
At lunchtime, Dylan made soup and the three of them ate it together at their small kitchen table.
‘Do you really think we’ll be able to fit everyone in on Christmas Day?’ Libby said, looking round them at the tiny kitchen.
They’d invited Frank to join them for Christmas lunch, as well as Esme, Johnny and Esme’s mum, and then when Peggy had mentioned she was going to be on her own for Christmas, Libby had invited her too. It had felt like a good idea at the time, their first chance to entertain friends in their new home, but now Libby realised it was going to be extremely cramped.
At least Simon had turned down their invitation, so that was one less person. He and his new girlfriend were spending the day together, and then he’d see Frankie on Boxing Day, when they went to celebrate at Libby’s parents’ house. Rebecca and her family would be there too. Frankie adored her cousins Hector and Emily, and Libby and Rebecca had settled into a cautiously friendly relationship, forged through sleep-deprived coffees and late-night text chats during breastfeeding.
‘Christmas lunch will be fine, we’ll just have to all get cosy,’ Dylan said, as Frankie enthusiastically dunked a piece of bread into her bowl, splashing soup everywhere. ‘Do you think you’ll be able to finish the presents in time?’
‘I hope so.’
Libby had spent the past few weeks doing sketches of Frankie, which she was planning on framing and giving to everyone for Christmas. She felt a bit self-conscious about doing it, but after her first term at art school, her drawing had already come on in leaps and bounds. She was especially proud of the sketch she’d done for Frank. It was taken from a photo Dylan had snapped of Frank and Frankie together, back in the summer. Frank was holding Frankie on his lap, and the two of them were looking at each other, grinning. It was one of Libby’s favourite photos of her daughter, and she knew that Frank would love it too.
‘Right, I’d better get going,’ Libby said, once they’d cleared up. She put on her winter coat and twisted her hair up inside a thick bobble hat. Then she kissed her partner and daughter goodbye and stepped out into the cold December wind.