Page 132 of The Unlikely Pair

But when I finally emerge from the medical unit, it is not Toby waiting for me.

“Harry. Oh my God, Harry.” Prunella throws herself in my arms.

I hold her, bewildered. Prunella feels wrong in my arms. Too small, too soft.

But then the familiar citrus scent of her shampoo fills my nostrils, and I swallow the lump in my throat as I tighten my arms around her.

“Pru.”

When she draws back, I see the tears on her face. “I thought I’d lost you.”

I’m nonplussed about how to reply to that.

“I endeavored to do everything I could to return to you,” I say.

There’s suddenly a noise at the door, and it’s Toby, dressed like me in a sickly green hospital gown. It looks like he’s also had a shower because his hair is damp.

I feel an unfathomable rush of happiness at the sight of Toby.

He leans against the doorway, regarding me with the trace of a smirk. “So, did they find anything wrong with you? Besides the obvious thing of your political beliefs,” he asks.

I try to keep my voice steady. “Just the usual rapid weight loss and malnutrition.”

“I guess we did forget to eat our greens.” His smirk grows. “Which is ridiculous, given all the fields of broccoli and beans we spent our time frolicking in.”

I can’t stop the smile spreading across my face in return.

“What about you? Were you given the all-clear?” I ask.

“Yes, just nutritional deficiencies and a few infected scratches.”

“I guess we were a bit remiss with our use of Dettol,” I say.

“Yeah, I believe we were preoccupied with other aspects of our adventure. You know, like the not-dying part.”

Prunella’s staring at us, and I suddenly remember social conventions.

“Oh, sorry, I’ve neglected my manners. This is my wife, Prunella. Prunella, this is Toby Webley.”

Toby moves forward. “It is lovely to meet you, Prunella.” He gives a roguish, charming grin as he shakes her hand. “After surviving forty-two days with this one, I have infinite respect for the fact you’ve been married to him for fifteen years.”

He’s trying for lighthearted nonchalance, but something is slightly off in his voice.

Prunella releases his hand, her gaze flicking between us.

“It is lovely to meet you too, Toby,” Prunella says eventually. She tilts her head to one side, giving him an appraising look.

But before she can open her mouth to say anything more, a man appears at the door.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, there are some officials waiting to speak with you.”

My gut cramps. Of course, the debrief.

It starts out exactly as I expect. I’m in a sterile room with a woman and a man from MI6, who introduce themselves as Harpreet and Dave.

They start by asking me the details of the day of the ill-fated flight. What had happened that morning? How did I come to be running late? Who had scheduled the flight for me?

But then I’m thrown a question I never anticipated.