Mitchell crossed over and stood behind him. “Um, Barry?” he said.
His friend looked up sheepishly. His chest curls were missing, as well as the hair on his head. “Yes, it’s me.”
“That’s a drastic haircut.”
Barry’s cheeks flushed. “Enid bought some new dog grooming equipment and wanted to try it out.”
“On you?”
“A trial run,” he said. “The electronic clippers worked well, but I think she preferred dogs to me. I’ve been messaging a lady called Amanda and she wants to go ice skating.”
“It sounds less risky than grooming.”
“I hope so.” Barry smiled tightly. “How did things go at the hospital?”
Mitchell touched his head. “All fine. I’ve had my stitches out and a doctor confirmed I’m not going crazy, so now it’s official. Any news on my toolbox?”
“Not a thing. Any luck in your search for Yvette?”
Mitchell gave him a very brief update, not mentioning Connor’s name until he’d spoken to Liza. “And how’s work?”
“The usual. Locks and more locks.” Barry nodded toward the new white bridge. “The celebration preparations are all well underway, so Russ’s stress levels are sky-high. Stay away from him.”
Mitchell looked upriver toward the Yacht bridge and saw Liza walking and Poppy half skipping along the street toward Redford. They met him in the middle of the bridge.
“I got a new dress, and a headband and shoes,” Poppy said before he could even say hello. “And a necklace with a pug dog pendant.”
“That sounds like a productive morning.”
“It was,” Liza said. “We had lots of fun in the sales, trying stuff on, and I got my green shoes, though maybe not quite the shade I was looking for. Poppy and I went for a burger, after our debate about whether Burger King or McDonald’s is better.”
“Burger King,” Poppy said.
“Who won?” Mitchell asked.
“Who do you think?” Liza fixed Poppy with a pretend glare. She then turned her attention to Barry and squinted at him. “Oh, hi, it’s you. You look so different without your hair.”
“It’s a long story,” he said. “Don’t ask.”
“How did your appointment go?” Liza asked Mitchell. “All good?”
“It was okay. I had my stitches out.” It was too awkward to talk further, with Barry and Poppy being here. “Do you still have the paper and pens Megan gave you?” he asked Barry.
Barry nodded. “Yeah, in my toolbox.”
“Poppy, do you fancy doing a bit of drawing while I tell Liza about the hospital?” Mitchell asked.
She nodded readily and jumped over to Barry’s side.
Mitchell and Liza walked over to the spot Yvette fell from the bridge. He bent down and located her heart-shaped lock again, among all the ones hanging there. He thought of Yvette in her yellow dress and again felt a connection to her somehow.
Liza crouched down. “My heart is always yours,” she whispered as the noise of the gushing river almost drowned out her words. She peered through the railing at the water, then up at him. “Yvette was so lucky you were here. I dread to think what might have happened to her if you weren’t.”
Mitchell looked over the railing, too. “I managed to track down the doctor who attended to Yvette at the river edge,” he said.
Liza sucked in a breath as she stood up. “You did?”
“His name is Ernest Grey. He tried to persuade Yvette to get checked out at hospital, but she was in a hurry to leave.” He cleared his throat. “She said a man called Connor was waiting for her.”
Liza frowned, as if she had a migraine setting in. “Connor? Are you absolutely sure about that?”
“That’s definitely the name he gave me. Does it mean anything to you?”
Liza chewed her bottom lip for a while, before nodding. “It’s my father’s name.”
“So, he might have been waiting for her?”
She gave the smallest laugh. “It’s highly unlikely, Mitchell. My dad died five years ago.”
They glanced at each then away again, confused.
Mitchell’s mind went momentarily blank. “Could Connor perhaps be a friend, or Yvette’s boyfriend?” he tried.
“But he was supposed to be called Victor,” Liza said wildly, the color in her cheeks draining. “It sounds like Yvette was confused. She thought she knew you, and then said Dad was waiting for her. Maybe she has some kind of amnesia. It’d explain why she went missing. She might not know who she is any longer. A friend of mine had early onset dementia. Perhaps it’s that... Oh, I just don’t know.”
Mitchell spoke calmly to reassure her. “Yvette wrote to you, and to Jean. If she had amnesia or dementia, I doubt she’d remember your addresses.”
Liza took a moment to think about this. “Yes, yes, you’re right.” She placed her hand over his on the railing. “She wrote to Naomi, too. I just can’t make sense of all this.”
She looked so lost Mitchell gently slid his hand out from under hers and slipped it around her shoulder. She leaned in toward him and tucked her head under his chin for a while. When he breathed in, her hair tickled his nose. A warmth filtered through him and he wondered if she felt it, as well. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not, but that didn’t matter. She needed him and, for a few moments, he needed her, too.
A couple of girls’ voices sounded behind them, and Mitchell smelled violets in the air. It made him think of Anita, and his arm fell suddenly away from Liza’s shoulder. He inched awkwardly away from her.
Liza picked at a piece of paint flaking off the railing. “I think I need to speak to Mum and Naomi,” she said. “I need to tell them you saw Yvette, especially if she mentioned Dad. I can’t keep this to myself any longer. Perhaps I could invite them over to dinner. I can tell them all about you and come clean about what I know.”
“Let me know how you get on,” Mitchell said.
She pursed her lips, considering. “Will you join us? I bet they’d like to talk to the man who helped Yvette.”
A family meal, Mitchell thought to himself. When was the last time he, Anita and Poppy ate together? It was probably a sandwich in front of the TV, or even McDonald’s. He wished he could say it had been significant and lovely, but he couldn’t remember what it was.
Anita always said her last meal on earth would be warm crusty bread, lots of cheese and a glass of cider. He didn’t even know what she’d eaten at Mazzo’s. Had she had tiramisu without him?