Page 147 of Carry Me Home

‘Stop.’ But she’s smiling now. ‘Go home. Get some sleep. I’m going to stay with the others in the village. Probably for the best.’

‘I will.’

She walks me to the door of the staff room. The car park beyond the windows is dark, lit only by the security lights.

‘Oh, Tom.’ Cara stops. Her expression shifts, her gaze flickering over my face. ‘Did you know Nina was coming up here?’

I freeze. ‘What?’

‘Nina. Your Nina.’ Cara moves to the window, looking out at the car park. ‘I saw a car pulling out just now while we were hugging.’

‘That could be anyone’s⁠—’

‘Pretty sure it’s the same one I saw parked outside the café. It’s got a yellow daisy sticker on the side, right?’

The floor drops out from under me.

‘She saw the hug,’ Cara says. ‘She saw me crying. She saw you—’ Her hand goes to her hair, to the place where my fingers tucked the strand behind her ear.

‘How long ago?’

‘Five minutes. Maybe less. She must have just⁠—’

I’m already running. Damn it, why didn’t I pack the car ready to leave tonight? Why did I think I could stand one more night away from her.

I call her from the car. Engine on, headlights cutting through the dark, gravel spraying as I pull out of the car park and head back towards the cottage where my pitiful belongings are sitting in cardboard boxes ready for their return trip home. Home. The word echoes.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Voicemail.

Hi, this is Nina. Leave a message and I’ll call you back. Maybe. If I feel like it.

‘Nina. Pick up. Please. It’s not what you think. Whatever you saw – it’s not what you think. Call me back.’

I hang up. Call again. Voicemail.

‘Nina. I’m coming home. Right now. Just – please. Let me explain.’

Voicemail. Voicemail. Voicemail.

Once I’ve packed the car, still cursing myself for not doing it this morning, I throw the phone onto the passenger seat, start the engine, and press hard on the accelerator.

The roads are dark and empty. Scotland blurs past – hills and lochs and the endless grey. I should be tired. I’ve been awake since six, on my feet all day, emotionally wrung out from goodbyes and speeches and Cara crying on my shoulder.

But I’m not tired. I’m terrified.

She saw us hugging. She saw Cara’s face pressed against my shoulder. She saw me tuck a strand of hair behind Cara’s ear – a gesture of comfort, nothing more, the kind of thing you do for a colleague who’s crying, but through a window, from a car park, after driving eleven hours to surprise someone⁠—

It would have looked like the only thing Nina has ever been afraid of. Me leaving when I’d promised her I’d be there.

I don’t know how long I’ve been driving; I don’t dare move my eyes from the road and glance at the clock. All I know is my fuel gauge is going down, and I don’t want to stop for fuel. My phone buzzes. I grab it.

Brynn.

‘What the hell is going on?’ Her voice is sharp, tight and bordering on assaultingly loud to my ears. ‘Nina just called me from a service station somewhere past Carlisle. She’s⁠—’

‘I know. I know what she saw. It wasn’t⁠—’

‘I don’t care what it wasn’t right now. She’s driving home in the middle of the night and she’s in no state to be behind a wheel. If she crashes⁠—’