The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,27
was so lost in her thoughts as she drove that she was startled when the satnav told her to take the exit towards Nantes and the Atlantic coast route. The sudden command threw her into another spasm of indecision. Paris or Bordeaux. Bordeaux or Paris. Maybe the man she’d met on the boat and in the café did matter. Maybe he was important to her future. Maybe she was making another massive mistake. Paris or Bordeaux. Bordeaux or Paris.
At the last minute, she veered to the right and took the off ramp, much to the annoyance of the ancient Renault behind her, whose driver blasted her with a long hoot of the car’s horn.
There are no signs, and no man is important to my future, she told herself. I’m going to Bordeaux.
Besides, maybe the man I need is there.
There were fewer Irish-registered cars on her new route, and Deira supposed that most of them had stayed in the more northern parts of Brittany. Staying in Brittany would have been the most sensible choice of all, she thought. But now she was committed to the west coast. In normal circumstances, a five-hour road trip wouldn’t have bothered her – she’d often driven to Galway and back, which took about the same amount of time as the journey to Bordeaux – but despite the painkillers, the ache in her side was persistent and tiring.
About forty minutes after leaving Rennes, she pulled into a service station for another break. The heat from the sun, after the air-conditioned comfort of the car, surprised her. She stood with her back to it, allowing the warmth to penetrate her bones, and hoped it was benefiting her poor bruised ribs.
After walking around to stretch her legs, she sat at one of the wooden trestle tables in the grassy area behind the services. Sitting was fine. Nothing hurt when she was sitting.
She took out her phone.
She’d missed a call from Gillian, and realised that her sister had phoned at around the same time as she’d made her previous stop. She hadn’t noticed that the slider button on the phone had moved to ‘mute’. It must have happened when she fell, she thought, because she hadn’t muted it herself. Gill had left a voice message, despite the fact that Deira always told her never to bother, and that sending a text was far more efficient. She hesitated before accessing it, not really wanting to hear anything her sister had to say.
‘Hi,’ said Gillian. ‘There’s a slight change of plan about Bex and Dublin. I was going to run it by you, but since I can’t get hold of you, I hope it’s OK. I’m driving her up myself. She got a call after I talked to you to ask if she could come to the interview tomorrow morning. I have your house key, so I hope you don’t mind us staying there tonight. Enjoy your holiday. Bye.’
Deira tapped her fingers on the table, then hit Gill’s number.
‘Hello,’ said Gillian. ‘My call went straight to voicemail, so I thought you didn’t have a signal.’
‘I’ve stopped for a break. I got your message.’
‘Oh, great.’
There was a moment’s silence, and Deira suddenly realised that her sister hadn’t expected to be called back quite so quickly.
‘I was a bit surprised,’ she said.
‘I had to make a spur-of-the-moment decision,’ Gill told her. ‘Bex badly wants this job. She’s absolutely peppering about the interview. I checked out some B&Bs and hotels, but Dublin prices are extortionate and it seemed ridiculous to shell out all that money when your place was lying idle.’
‘And what about her friend?’ asked Deira.
‘Lydia was able to come today too,’ said Gillian.
‘So all three of you are planning to stay?’
‘It makes so much more sense than a B&B,’ said Gill.
Does my sister really think it’s perfectly fine to make herself at home in my house? wondered Deira. Or am I the unreasonable one?
‘Look, I know it’s not ideal from your point of view,’ conceded Gillian when Deira stayed silent. ‘But this job is important to Bex – and she is your god-daughter after all.’
‘It’s just for tonight?’
‘Well, Bex and Lydia had hoped to stay in Dublin for a few days,’ said Gillian. ‘They wanted to meet up with some friends, do some shopping, you know yourself. I’ll probably do a bit of shopping too.’
‘In that case, you’ll be going back when?’
‘A day or two,’ said Gillian. ‘But don’t worry. I’ll make sure everything is left in pristine condition.’