The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,25

originally?’ asked Tillie.

‘There was a lot of talk about gorgeous country houses and chateaux,’ said Deira. ‘But he hadn’t got around to making any bookings. Which has turned out to be a good thing, because it gives me freedom.’

‘In that case, why don’t you forget about Paris and go somewhere more relaxing,’ suggested her friend. ‘After all, France is a huge country, with lots of nice places you probably wouldn’t get to if you didn’t have a car. So take advantage of it.’

‘I should have thought about it before I left,’ said Deira. ‘It was all a bit chaotic on my part.’

‘I went to Marseilles once,’ Tillie said. ‘That was lovely. Or how about Lyons, maybe? Or Toulouse?’

‘Marseille is on the south coast, you klutz,’ said Deira. ‘It’d take me a full day to get there. Maybe more.’

‘You have all the time in the world,’ Tillie pointed out. ‘No reason why you couldn’t go. Or drive anywhere else, for that matter. You could do a grand tour.’

‘A grand tour?’ Deira laughed.

‘You’ve nearly three weeks,’ said Tillie. ‘One way or another, you wouldn’t have spent it all in Paris, would you? I know you earn a decent wedge, Deira, but you’d be bankrupt by the end of it. All those chic shops!’

Deira laughed. ‘I guess so.’

‘There’s always Cannes,’ added Tillie. ‘That’s not far from Marseilles. You could disport yourself with the movie and yachting set.’

‘Gosh, yes, the film festival is around now, isn’t it?’ said Deira. ‘Although that’d probably mean everywhere is booked up or out-of-my-league expensive. Still, I might give it a look.’

‘Make the most of your time. Stay positive,’ said Tillie. ‘And go with the flow.’

‘Until the police come looking for me thanks to Gavin’s secret webcam.’

‘I wish I hadn’t mentioned it. I’m sure it’s fine. You’ll be fine.’

‘You’re a good friend,’ said Deira. ‘And I’m sorry I’ve been a bit . . . well, distant lately.’

‘I don’t blame you for that one little bit,’ said Tillie. ‘You needed space. Now you’ve got it, so make the most of it.’

‘I’ll do my best.’ Deira glanced around. Most of the people she’d identified as being from the ferry had left now, and the newer arrivals were French families.

‘Anyway, keep in touch and drive safely,’ Tillie said.

‘I will. Thanks again.’

Her coffee had gone cold. Deira ordered another and brought it back to the counter, where she opened her iPad and began looking at her maps again. She had two initial choices, she thought as she studied it. Head east to Paris as she’d originally intended. Or turn south towards Bordeaux, from where she could think about Tillie’s suggestions of Toulouse, Marseille and Cannes. Her friend was right – it didn’t matter how far away they were; she had plenty of time.

Looking at the map more closely, she saw that Toulouse, Lyons and Marseilles formed a large triangle, and Toulouse was on the same road as Bordeaux. So she could stop at Bordeaux and then continue on. In fact there were a few other towns on that southern road that might be nice to visit. La Rochelle, for example. Or Biarritz. Hadn’t Biarritz been a jet-set kind of place in the sixties? Perhaps it still had a touch of glamour. Perhaps she might find what she was looking for there.

Right, she thought. Change of plan. South it is.

She got up from the counter, picked up her bag and the takeaway cup and walked towards the exit, still harnessing the power of positive thinking.

The power of positive thinking didn’t last very long.

A couple of seconds later, she was face down on the floor of the café, her coffee cup spiralling across the tiles. She’d no idea what had happened. One moment she was walking towards the automatic door, the next the ground was rushing up to meet her.

‘Are you OK?’

She was glad that it was an Irish accent she could hear as she tried, and failed, to turn herself over.

‘Take it easy.’ The owner of the voice was kneeling beside her. ‘You took a terrible tumble there.’

She recognised him. He was the man she’d spoken to on the deck of the ferry the night before.

Did meeting him again mean something?

Was it a sign?

She began to struggle upright, but a sharp pain in her side made her stop.

‘Take it easy,’ he repeated.

‘What happened?’

‘You tripped,’ he said. ‘It was like it happened in slow motion. You seemed to go up into the air and then come back down with a terrific thump. And you didn’t