The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,111

pressure to the trip. Had he never thought that she might take some time out for herself? To simply enjoy being away?

He used to say that travelling was about the journey, not the destination, but he’d made this all about destinations. She wondered how he’d feel about her deviation from his plan. Surely he wouldn’t begrudge her being looked after. He used to say that it was important to do the things you loved, and she was loving this.

To be fair to Ken, he’d loved his own life. He’d loved being who he was. He’d relished every day. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t been able to live it as someone with an illness. Perhaps that was why he’d done what he’d done.

It was a comfort to think that. A comfort to believe that he hadn’t driven off the pier because he couldn’t bear her to be more important than him. Or because he didn’t love her, or the children, enough to live for them. Perhaps it had only ever been about him, not them. And that, thought Grace, was a kind of relief.

Chapter 29

El Pozo de la Señora, Spain: 38.2898°N 4.0287°W

Deira and Grace met later in the relaxation room, where they lounged on day beds and drank lemon-infused water while looking over the Zen garden towards the valley. They agreed that the treatments had been superb and that they felt totally rested and chilled.

‘The original building was a small monastery,’ said Grace, who’d read all the literature in her room. ‘And you’re right, Deira, apparently there’s a spring in the garden that was supposed to have been a holy well.’

‘Not that I believe in the power of holy wells or anything, but there’s certainly a great sense of peace and tranquillity here,’ said Deira. ‘And even though Muireann told me there are about a dozen guests, you feel as though this place is yours alone.’

‘I haven’t seen another soul,’ said Grace.

‘Apparently they come for retreats,’ Deira said.

‘Religious retreats?’ Grace looked surprised.

‘No. No. Retreats from the world. From the pace of life. And from technology,’ added Deira. ‘They usually stay for a week.’

‘That’d be pricey,’ observed Grace.

‘I suppose if you feel more centred at the end of it, it would be worth it,’ said Deira. ‘Apparently there’s a town five kilometres away with its own train station. So it’s not as isolated as you’d think. The visitors come for the food, too,’ she continued. ‘They have a vegan kitchen here.’

‘I thought I saw beef on the menu,’ said Grace.

‘It’s not all vegan,’ Deira assured her. ‘That’s a bit extreme for me, but I might go veggie tonight. I’m happy not to eat meat if the alternative is appetising.’

They sat in silence again for a few minutes before Grace turned to Deira and asked if she’d seen any sign of Charlie Mulholland.

‘Not so far,’ replied Deira. ‘I was going to ask Muireann if he was around, but I thought that would sound very pointed. If he’s here, I guess dinner will be the time to see him.’

‘Have you a plan if he is?’ asked Grace.

‘None of my plans have worked out very well,’ Deira replied.

‘Perhaps this will be different,’ said Grace, and they lapsed into silence again.

There was no sign of Charlie at dinner. Deira didn’t know if she felt relieved or disappointed. Afterwards, she and Grace decided to go for a walk along one of the trails.

‘Maybe it’s for the best,’ said Grace.

‘Probably,’ Deira agreed. ‘I’ve made such an eejit out of myself these last few months that I couldn’t guarantee not to do it again.’

‘Ah, Deira, you’ve been through a tough time,’ said Grace. ‘Cut yourself a little slack.’

‘You’re very comforting, you know that?’

‘Life is hard enough without us being hard on each other,’ said Grace. ‘And I’m sorry I was harsh before.’

‘I need harsh,’ said Deira. ‘I need to face up to the things I can’t change.’

Grace gave her a sympathetic smile as they continued along the trail.

‘Oh!’ exclaimed Deira after they’d gone a few hundred metres in silence. ‘How amazing.’

They gazed at the panoramic view of the valley in front of them, an unexpected oasis of green among the dustiness of the mountains.

‘Regardless of your motives, I’m glad you suggested this stopover,’ said Grace as they sat on a strategically placed wooden bench. ‘I truly do feel recharged.’

Deira wasn’t sure if recharged was the right word for how she was feeling herself. The massage had been relaxing, the dinner superb and the walk enjoyable, but she was