Page 50 of Swiping Right (and other disasters)

“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 thought 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.”

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