Page 89 of The Summer Swap

Ten minutes turned into fifteen and by twenty she was starting to worry.

After thirty minutes she called him, but his phone went to voice mail.

Maybe he was in a cab and taking another call. A colleague asking for advice, perhaps.

She gave it another five minutes and then called again, and this time she left a message.

“Theo, it’s me. Where are you? I’m worried.”

What if he’d had an accident? It was impossible not to consider that option, given what had happened to Michael. Michael had been driving his car, going about his business, not imagining for a moment that it would turn out to be the last car journey he ever made.

She stared out of the window, hoping to see Theo sprinting toward her, full of apology.

But there was no Theo. Just an oversolicitous member of the front of house staff, keen to know her intentions.

Kristen had no problem eating in a restaurant alone if she’d planned for it, but she hadn’t planned for this and she felt increasingly conspicuous. She was dressed for a celebration, but there was no celebration.

Unable to stand the sympathetic glances from her fellow diners any longer, she stood up and gave her apologies. Embarrassed, she gave them a massive tip for nothing but the privilege of having allowed her to sit at one of their tables for an hour.

Then she walked out of the restaurant and called Theo again.

“Theo, I’m on my way home. I’ll see you there. Call me as soon as you can just to let me know you’re okay.”

Her mind went into overdrive on the cab drive home.

She wanted to believe that he’d been held up, but if that was the case why hadn’t he messaged her? He knew she was waiting in the restaurant. He knew this was a special occasion.

No, Theo wouldn’t do that to her, which left only one explanation and that was that he hadn’t been able to use his phone for some reason.

Theo had mentioned to her that Michael’s phone had kept ringing even after he was dead.

Remembering that sent her mind and her thoughts spiraling out of control. There was no point in telling herself that nothing would have happened because these things did happen, and Michael was evidence of that. Some people arrived home safely, but some didn’t.

Back in her house, she dropped her purse onto the kitchen countertop and called the emergency department.

She was probably overreacting, and no doubt she’d regret it once the staff started teasing her, but she’d take it because it was the only way to put her mind at rest.

“I just want to check whether Theo Buckingham is there. I’m sure he isn’t. I’m being—”

“Theo Buckingham? He’s in surgery.”

“In surgery?” Kristen’s knees gave way, and she sat down hard on the nearest kitchen chair. She felt dizzy. “How bad is it?”

“I’m not at liberty to disclose personal information.”

“I’m his wife.”

“Oh—Mrs. Buckingham? It’s Clara Oats here. Sorry, I didn’t recognize your voice. It’s pretty bad. It will be a few hours before we know more.”

A few hours?

She couldn’t think. She was shaking. How could two tragedies happen so close together?

“Mrs. Buckingham? Are you still there? Can I give him a message for you?”

“A message?”

“I can pass something to one of the team if there’s something particular you want to say.”

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