The Lost Ticket, page 25
“Well, she takes one look at me, and she just knows. I mean, I told you we were thick as thieves, and she looks at me and goes, ‘Oh, no, Peg, you’re pregnant, aren’t you?’ At which point I burst into tears, ’cos I’d been fearing as much myself, what with the weight gain and the sickness. And Percy gets down on the floor next to me and wraps me in her arms, and she holds me while I sob, whispering that it’s going to be all right, she’ll look after me.”
Peggy was quiet for a moment, her eyes damp. Libby remembered her own pregnancy discovery, the day she and Frank had gone to the National Gallery. How she’d gone home alone, scared and overwhelmed, without a friend like Percy to hug her and reassure her. The memory made goose bumps prickle on Libby’s arm.
“I’m sorry,” Peggy said. “It’s strange to do all this remembering. It brings up . . . well, it brings up lots of feelings, doesn’t it?”
“I understand,” Frank said, nodding.
Peggy wiped the back of her hand across her eyes before she continued.
“The reason I’m telling you all this is that later, once Percy had tucked me up in bed with a hot Bovril, I said to her it must have been a good date she’d had, seeing as she’d been gone all day. And I remember this so clearly, Frank. She gave a little smile and shook her head and said it was a funny thing, but the lad she was meeting had never turned up. She said they were meant to go to the National Gallery, and she’d been so sure he’d come that she’d sat there all day in front of that bloody Bacchus and Ariadne painting, but he never came.”
“Oh, no,” Frank said, his face turning pale.
“But here’s the strange thing. Percy, as you’ve probably gathered by now, was not the kind of girl who’d sit there waiting for a boy all day. She was fierce and independent and bloody-minded, and boys chased her round seven days a week, but she never usually gave them the time of day. So her saying she’d sat there from ten in the morning till gone four in the afternoon, waiting for some lad to come meet her—well, I’d never heard anything like it. And I said as much, asked her why she’d waited so long. And she said something like ‘I don’t know, Pegs. I just had a good feeling about this one.’ And then she shrugged, picked up her book, and never talked about him again.”
Libby watched Frank, waiting for his reaction. His eyes were glazed, and for a horrible moment, Libby wondered if he’d gone into one of his confused states. Eventually he spoke.
“She waited all day.” His voice was faint. “She waited for me at the gallery all day, while I waited for her at the bus stop.”
Peggy nodded. “I always wondered who the boy was who could make Percy Fitzgerald sit there all day. And now I know.”
“I lost her number,” Frank said, his voice still quiet. “I was so sure I’d catch her at the bus stop.”
“Well, I can’t say for sure she’d have even caught the bus that day,” Peggy said. “She liked to walk, always did, right up till the end. She may well have set off early and gone up there on foot.”
Frank shook his head. “It never occurred to me to go to the gallery. I didn’t think.”
“No, well, that’s the problem with you men, isn’t it?” Peggy looked at Libby and raised an eyebrow. “Still, you must have made quite an impression on her, Frank. I’ve never known Percy to wait for a man, before or since.”
Frank didn’t say anything. It was almost dark now, and London was lit up in front of them with thousands of twinkling lights. Libby didn’t want to tear Frank away, but she knew Clara must have been going crazy with worry.
“Thank you so much for telling us all of this, Peggy,” she said.
“Not at all, love. I spend so much time up here on my own, chatting to Percy in my head, it’s been lovely to talk about her out loud.”
“It’s a beautiful spot,” Frank said, looking around them. “I’ve done some of my best thinking up here over the years.”
“She loved this place. I like to think she’s up here when I come, flying kites with Jack and listening to me blabber on.”
Frank looked at Peggy. “Do you think . . . May I?”
“ ’Course you can, love.”
He cleared his throat.
“Hello, Percy.”
Frank’s voice was loud and clear as he looked out into the darkness.
“I’m Frank Weiss, the boy on the 88 bus. I lost your number, and then I stupidly never thought to come to the gallery. I hope you weren’t too cross.”
Libby watched him take a deep breath.
“I’ve been looking for you these past sixty years because I wanted to say thank you. Our conversation that day changed the course of my life. Thanks to you, I had the confidence to stand up to my parents and tell them I wanted to be an actor. I got a place at drama school and went on to have a long and moderately successful career. I don’t think any of that would have ever happened if I’d not met you.”
Somewhere in the distance, an owl hooted.
“I’ve often wondered what would have happened if we’d met each other for that date or if I’d found you again on the bus. This may sound silly, but I’ve always thought that we might have been good together, you and me, that we might have been happy.” He paused, running a hand through his hair. “But hearing your story today, Percy, I realize that you didn’t need me in your life. You’ve had someone who has made you far happier than I ever could.”
He turned to Peggy. “I’m very glad she had you.”
Peggy smiled. “Me too, Frank. We were a good pair, me and her.”
A gust of wind blew, and Frank started to pull himself up from the bench. Libby stood up to help him.
“Are you coming too, Peggy?”
“Nah, I’m going to stay here a bit longer, love. I want to say good-bye to Percy before I leave.”
“Well, thank you again,” Frank said to her. “After all these years, it’s good to finally know what happened to my girl on the 88 bus.”
“She’ll love this, you know,” Peggy said. “She’ll be out there right now, chuckling away to herself about the daft old bugger who spent sixty years looking for her. She was a romantic at heart, even though she’d never admit it.”
“Well, I’m glad I got the chance to make her laugh again,” Frank said. “Her and Jack.”
He nodded good-bye to Peggy and then turned, leaning heavily on Libby’s arm.
“You know, I’ve always loved the name Jack,” he said as they moved away from the bench.
“He was named after Percy’s favorite writer,” Peggy called from behind them. “I can never remember the man’s name. Jack Ker-oo-ic or something like that.”
Frank looked at Libby, a smile spreading across his face. “Jack Kerouac. Of course.”
CHAPTER
46
Two weeks later, Libby caught the train back up to London. She hadn’t intended to come up again before the baby was born, but the decision had been made for her by Esme, who’d sent Libby a text message the previous week.
I visited Frank who told me he saw you. My wedding is this Saturday. Johnny is excited to meet you. There will be karaoke and dancing! E xx
Libby had considered replying saying she was busy and couldn’t make it, but she hadn’t the heart to let Esme down. Besides, the wedding gave her the perfect excuse to skip the second part of the NCT course, much to Simon’s annoyance.
Rather than get off the train at Vauxhall today, Libby disembarked at Clapham Junction instead. From there, she walked ten minutes to a row of flats with neat front gardens and rang on the bell of number twelve.
Peggy answered the door, beaming at her. “It’s good to see you again, love. Here, give me your bag and come on in. Frank’s already here.”
She showed Libby into a small sitting room and then disappeared to make tea. It was a cozy room, with an old floral settee in front of a TV, a sewing bag resting on a table with its contents spilling out. But what was most striking were the framed pictures that hung on every wall. Most of them were paintings, bright slashes of abstract color, like fireworks against the white walls. Frank was standing looking at one of them, dressed in his blue suit, his back to Libby. She walked over to join him, and for a moment he didn’t seem to notice her presence.
“They’re extraordinary, aren’t they?” he said eventually.
“I’ve never seen anything like them,” Libby said, and she meant it.
The painting Frank was studying looked, at first glimpse, like a large splash of green paint. But when she looked closer, Libby saw that there were actually dozens of different shades of green in there, hundreds of small, delicate strokes making up the larger block. The only other color was a small blob of red at the top right of the canvas.
“You’re having a gallery tour, I see,” Peggy said when she came back in.
“Are they yours?” Frank asked.
Peggy let out a laugh. “No, love. These are Percy’s.”
Next to her, Libby heard Frank take a sharp breath.
“Quite something, aren’t they?” Peggy came over to join them.
“They’re absolutely stunning,” Frank said. He still hadn’t taken his eyes off the painting in front of them.
“This one’s called On Parliament Hill,” Peggy said.
“Is that a kite?” Libby pointed to the small splatter of red.
Peggy nodded. “It’s one of my favorites. It’s also one of the last Percy ever painted. Her Alzheimer’s was pretty bad by this point and some days she could barely get out of bed. But that morning, she picked up a brush and started painting for the first time in months. For those few hours, it was like the old Percy was back.”
Libby glanced at Peggy and saw she was looking at the painting, her eyes misty. Then Peggy gave a small cough.
“Come on, let’s have a cup of tea before it goes cold, shall we?”
It turned out a cup of tea at Peggy’s also involved an elaborate spread of food, including triangular-cut sandwiches, homemade Victoria sponge cake, and a sherry trifle large enough to feed a dozen. While they ate, Frank told them about his new home, Willow Court.
“It smells of boiled cabbages and they make you eat at the most ridiculous times,” he grumbled. “And I’ve already had a stand-up row with the matron because she told me off for changing the TV channel the other night. I said to her, ‘Everyone else here is asleep in their chairs. Why can’t I watch David Attenborough instead of the stupid soaps?’ ”
“Oh, I love the soaps,” Peggy said. “This place sounds right up my street; maybe I should come live there too.”
“Well, it’s not all bad, I suppose,” Frank said grudgingly. “They do serve rather delicious puddings. And I have to admit, I don’t miss all the stairs. Plus, I have been sleeping better since I moved there.”
“Maybe they have a better bed?” Libby said.
“It could be that. Or maybe it’s something else.” Frank looked up at them both. “Maybe it’s because I finally know what happened to my girl on the bus?”
Libby couldn’t help but exhale in relief. She’d spent the past fortnight worrying that she’d done the wrong thing by taking Frank to meet Peggy; that the news that his girl on the bus was gone, alongside his move to a new home, might have been too much for him. But as he helped himself to seconds of trifle, she could see that it had had quite the opposite effect.
“Right, we should be heading off,” Frank said once he’d finished his third helping. “Thank you for having us, Peggy.”
“It was lovely to see you both,” Peggy said. “I don’t get many visitors these days. My David is very busy, you see.”
“I promise I’ll be back soon,” Frank said. “Next time I’d love to see those postcards of Percy’s that you mentioned. And I wouldn’t say no to another trifle too!”
“And you must bring the little ’un up when it’s born,” Peggy said to Libby as she showed them to the front door. “And remember what I said . . .”
“You can’t control the birth, so don’t even try!” Libby said, and they both laughed.
Libby and Frank walked across Clapham Common and caught the 88 bus from outside the station. Libby had been a little concerned that riding the bus might upset Frank, but she was delighted to see how happy he was to be back on it, greeting the driver and saying hello to other passengers as they made their way north toward the river. Once they’d crossed over the Thames into Pimlico, they got off the bus near Tate Britain and walked up to the church where the wedding was being held.
By the time they arrived, it was almost five o’clock. The sun was starting to set, throwing its autumnal evening light through the huge stained glass window behind the altar. Dozens of candles in glass storm lanterns had been lit along the nave, and the air was filled with the heady scent of jasmine from the floral arrangements. A string quartet were performing music at the back, and a low chatter of voices hung over the church as Libby and Frank found their seats. At the front, a young man in black tie, who Libby assumed must be the groom, Johnny, was waving at guests and high-fiving people as they walked past. Libby looked around the church, seeing if there was anyone she recognized.
“I’m sure he’ll be here somewhere,” Frank said in her ear.
“Who?”
“Dylan.”
“Oh . . . I wasn’t looking for him,” Libby mumbled.
The string quartet launched into a new piece of music, and a ripple of laughter went round the congregation as they recognized it as “Dancing Queen” by ABBA. The vicar signaled for them all to stand. At the back of the church, the heavy doors creaked open, and everyone turned around to get their first glimpse of the bride.
As soon as Libby saw Esme, tears sprang to her eyes. She was wearing a white fifties-style tea dress, covered in hundreds of tiny crystals so that her whole body sparkled in the light of the candles that clustered around the entrance. She had a lace veil over her face, and through it Libby could see a huge, radiant grin. Esme stopped in the doorway, giggling as she looked behind her, waiting for someone. Libby smiled at Frank next to her; his eyes were damp too. Then she looked back as a tall figure stepped into the church.
It took a second for Libby to realize who she was looking at. Dylan had swapped his usual leather jacket and jeans for a dark suit, although Esme had obviously been in charge of his styling, because the lapels of his suit were also decorated with small crystals, like the ones on her dress. Dylan’s hair still hadn’t grown back fully since his operation, but he’d managed to style a small Mohawk, the tips of which were dyed orange to match Esme’s flowers. His whole face was bursting with pride as he began to walk her down the aisle. Libby watched him as they passed, but Dylan had eyes only for the bride and didn’t glance up once.
The service began, and Libby sat back to enjoy it. The vicar was wonderful, making jokes and doing everything she could to put Esme and Johnny at ease. Esme’s mum read a passage from Winnie-the-Pooh, and some of their friends performed an a cappella version of “Stand by Me,” which had the whole congregation in tears. When it came to the first hymn, “Give Me Joy in My Heart,” the church was filled with loud, boisterous singing.
Later, as Johnny and Esme were saying their vows, Libby heard a sniff to her left and looked over to see Frank’s cheeks glistening.
“Are you all right?” she whispered, and he smiled through the tears.
“I was thinking how beautiful their love is. I wish I’d been so lucky.”
“Me too, Frank.”
At the front, Esme and Johnny stepped forward to kiss each other, and the whole congregation erupted into cheers of approval. Behind the wedding couple, Libby could see Dylan wolf-whistling with glee. He must have felt Libby watching him, because he glanced over for the first time, catching her eye. For a moment they stared at each other across the church; then Libby looked away.
* * *
• • •
AFTER the service, everyone poured out of the church and down the road to a nearby hotel for the reception. When they reached the venue, Libby lost Frank in the excited crush of guests flowing into the room where drinks were being served. Someone handed her a soft drink, and Libby found herself standing with one of Esme’s friends, who introduced herself as Laura and squealed with excitement when she saw Libby’s heavily pregnant state.
“When’s the baby coming?” Laura asked.
“In a month.”
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
“I haven’t found out; it’s going to be a surprise.”
“It’s a girl,” the young woman said confidently. “Have you chosen a name yet?”
“Not yet, no. I’m struggling a bit with that.”
“Where’s the dad?”
“He’s not h—”
“Is that him?”
Libby turned to see where Laura was pointing. Dylan was standing with a group of people across the room, and glanced away when he saw Libby look at him.
“No,” she said quickly. “He’s not here today.”
“Well, that man’s been staring at you.”
“He has?”
“He’s very handsome. Are you married?”
“So, how do you know Esme?” Libby said, keen to change the subject.
“Me and my boyfriend are in a theater group with her. Ohh, he’s coming over here now.”
“Your boyfriend?”
“No, the handsome man!”
“Shit,” Libby said. A moment later, she felt Dylan move in beside her.
“Hello!” Laura thrust her hand at him. “I’m Laura.”
“Hi, Laura, lovely to meet you,” Dylan said, shaking her hand.
“We were just talking about you.”
