Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

K iera eased her foot off the accelerator as her satnav beeped to inform her there was a speed camera coming up. She wasn’t normally one to zip up the outside lane at eighty miles per hour, but sometimes, needs must. She was unshowered and still in yesterday’s clothes. She’d managed to pick up a chocolate bar and some cola to keep her going as she flew down the M50 to North Wales. She could hear her phone vibrating, probably with messages from Seymour, but she couldn’t think about that now. She had to get to her destination and she had to do it quickly. She checked her watch. She had just under ninety minutes. She had to make it.

This hadn’t been how she’d expected her day to pan out.

She’d woken in Seymour’s flat to the sounds of breakfast being prepared. The smell of pancakes had greeted her, and brought a smile to her face. Could she really be this lucky?

Kiera shook her head. She had to concentrate on the drive. The next exit would take her to the layby near Prospect House. Nestled in the North Wales hills, she knew i t might be tricky to find. Off the motorway now, she turned off the radio so she could focus better. She had to get there. She could feel her heart beating faster with every passing mile, and tutted every time she came to a red light.

“Nutella or strawberries on your pancakes?” Seymour’s voice from the kitchen just an hour or so before had been warm, and Kiera’s smile had broadened.

“Both, surely,” she’d called, laughing. Laughter felt a world away now. And so did the Seymour who had instructed her to stay in bed while she finished breakfast.

Kiera had turned over and closed her eyes. Breakfast in bed, without complication or angst. She must have done something right to deserve this.

A queue of traffic appeared in front of Kiera’s Micra. She swore, in a more creative way than she’d thought herself capable of. She zoomed out on the Sat Nav to see if there was an alternative route. There was, but it would add an extra seventy miles to her journey. She couldn’t afford that. She had to hope that the traffic would clear. There must be a breakdown up ahead. She could hear sirens approaching, and the cars behind her began to pull onto the side of the road. She did the same, applying her handbrake and turning off the engine. This wasn’t good. She picked up her phone and looked back at the message which had cut short her breakfast.

“Help me. They won’t let me leave. Sending a pic of a map. Please, I think I can get to the layby for 11.45, but I can’t stay long. They’ll notice. I need you. Please. I know you hate me. I’m sorry. But they’re moving us soon and I don’t know where to next. C x”

It was at that moment that Seymour had come in with a tray, complete with teapot, cups and a plate piled with pancak es. “What’s wrong?” asked Seymour, immediately spotting the distress on Kiera’s face.

“I need to go. I’m sorry. I have something, somewhere to, well, someone to get to.” Kiera struggled to put her words together in a meaningful way as she dragged herself out of bed and threw on her clothes, which were strewn across the floor.

“Sorry, I don’t understand,” said Seymour, putting down the tray. “What’s happened? Do you need my help?”

“I can’t ask you to help. Look, I’ll call later. I just need to go and sort this out.”

Before Seymour could respond, Kiera had brushed past her, whispering “sorry” as she left. The front door slammed on her way out – an accident, but was that how Seymour would hear it? “Sorry,” she called out again, both for her departure and for the slamming.

Kiera looked at her watch. She still had time. She could still get there. She dialled Clodagh’s number. “So,” came the voice, “how was it?”

“What? Oh, yes, good. That’s not why I’m calling,” said Kiera.

“What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure,” said Kiera, “but Chrissie is in trouble and she needs me. I’m the only one who can help.”

“What on earth has happened? I don’t understand why she’s suddenly a factor here. Did you spend last night with Seymour?”

“Yes, like I said, good. But I need to do this now.”

“Kiera, you’re not making sense. Explain to me what’s going on,” said Clodagh, her voice both gentle and insistent.

Kiera calmed her breathing and explained how she’d come to find herself on the side of an A road in Wales.

“So,” said Clodagh, once Kiera had run out of words, “you th ought it was your job to rescue this woman who’s treated you like shit, a woman you’ve divorced, from something. But you don’t know what that something is?”

“Er, yes.”

“And you ran out on that gorgeous girl of yours to do so?” There was a long pause.

“I didn’t run out. I just left.”

“Same thing.”

“No, I left, I said sorry, I said I’d call,” Kiera insisted, but even she could hear the defensiveness in her voice.

“And have you called?”

“What would I say?”

“Fair. Ok, so once you’ve picked Chrissie up, what then? What if this is just an elaborate ruse to get back into your pants? What if it’s a way of pushing you around some more?” asked Clodagh.

“Then I’ll tell her to get lost, of course I will. But what if something bad has happened? What if she genuinely needs help?”

“Don’t you think the police might be better placed to help if that’s the case?” The pause was longer this time. Clodagh had a point. The silence was interrupted by the sound of engines starting up in front of Kiera.

“Sorry, got to go, the traffic’s moving again,” said Kiera, rapidly cutting off the call. For the first time, she began to wonder if she had done the right thing. There were three missed calls from Seymour already. How would she explain this? Had she just ruined the best thing that had happened to her in months? Years, even?

The night before, when they were finally spent, they had laid together, talking about their favourite albums, stories from their childhoods, anecdotes from work. It felt like the night could go on forever and the rest of the world no longer mattered.

Kiera put her foot down and sped towards the dropped pin on her sat nav, hoping it would get her to the very particular place she needed to be at.

The scene from her window became more rural, and houses gave way to hills and rivers. She passed villages, farms and hamlets; it couldn’t have been more different to Birmingham’s urban clutter. She felt exposed without the proliferation of mismatching brutalist buildings to hem her in.

She heard her phone ring again, and this time she pressed the Bluetooth button on her steering wheel. “Kiera?”

“Hi.”

“Thank goodness.” Kiera could hear the relief in Seymour’s voice. “What’s happening? Where are you?”

“I’m so sorry I ran out. This isn’t about you, I promise. I can’t really explain,” said Kiera.

“I’m going to need you to try for me, Kiera. I thought we were starting something.”

“We are. I mean, I think we are too. I didn’t want to go. But something happened. No, nothing is wrong with me, but I mean I needed to deal with something.”

“How can I help?” Seymour’s voice sounded strained. “Can you tell me about it?”

“You won’t understand.”

“You haven’t given me a chance to understand.”

Kiera’s satnav indicated she was less than half a mile from her destination.

“I know. I’m sorry. Look, I need to go. But I will call later. I promise,” said Kiera. There was a silence before Seymour spoke again .

“Ok. Speak later, I guess.”

The difference in the mood between them, from the evening before to now, was dramatic. Kiera felt her heart swoop painfully.

The call dropped. The only thing Kiera could hear was her car engine and the road bumping beneath her.

She was only a few hundred metres away. What she would find when she got there, she did not know.