bedrooms,’ Deira said. ‘I’m sure you don’t want to share with two nineteen-year-olds.’
‘Oh, look, I’ll use yours,’ said Gill. ‘I don’t mind. We’re sisters after all.’
The throb in Deira’s ribs turned into a stabbing pain as she inhaled sharply.
‘Yes, but—’
‘It’s good security for you too, having people going in and out.’
Deira knew she wasn’t going to win the argument. She never did with Gill.
‘OK, but in future you’ve got to ask me first,’ she told her. ‘I could have made other arrangements for the house while I’m away.’
‘But you didn’t.’
‘No, but . . .’ Deira’s voice trailed off. She knew there was no point in continuing the conversation.
‘We’ll be grand,’ Gillian said. ‘Have a good time yourself. Drive safely.’
Deira ended the call without saying another word. Her ribs were aching more than ever.
Chapter 10
Loire-Atlantique, France: 47.1987°N 1.6537°W
Despite sticking to a steady 100 kph, Grace arrived far too early at her hotel to check in. The Atlantique, with views over the Loire, was small but friendly – she and Ken had stayed there before, and she presumed that was why he’d booked it again. There were two elements to the building: an old house that contained the reception, dining and bar areas as well as the de luxe suites, plus a small modern wing where most of the bedrooms were located. Ken, extravagant for the first time in his life, had booked her into one of the suites.
Grace parked the Lexus, then strolled to reception, pulling her overnight case behind her. The young receptionist told her she was welcome to leave the case with them and avail herself of any of the hotel services until her room was ready. There was a pool, she told her, and a café if she would like some refreshment. And of course she was welcome to relax in any of the public areas.
Grace thanked her and went to the café, where she ordered tea and a pastry. One of the drawbacks of doing a road trip, she thought, was the amount of snacking it entailed. When she’d been with the airline, she’d felt the pressure to be slim and attractive, and she rarely ate between meals. The old habit of not grazing had stuck with her. Except when she was driving. She was sure that was why she always put on weight during the holidays.
She took an appreciative sip of the tea and then opened Ken’s computer. The documents were still neatly arranged on the desktop. Still looking for their passwords. Still urging her to do what Ken wanted. And still making her feel even more stupid than usual.
She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. Her late husband was still pulling her strings, even though most of his ashes were now scattered, as he’d wished, in the Celtic Sea. The rest were in the boot of the Lexus, waiting for her arrival in Spain. It seemed somewhat disrespectful to leave them in the car, but she hadn’t wanted to pack them in her luggage. All the same, fulfilling Ken’s wishes was how she’d persuaded her children that she needed to do this trip.
‘You could fly to Murcia with the ashes and hire a car,’ Regan told her when she’d said this to her. ‘Honestly, Mum, Dad wouldn’t have expected you to take the ferry and drive. Not on your own.’
‘You’re in Argentina on your own,’ Grace pointed out.
‘Well, yes. That’s different, though.’
‘Not really,’ said Grace. ‘Anyhow, I’ll be fine.’
‘I don’t doubt you’ll be fine,’ Regan said. ‘But will you enjoy it?’
Which was an entirely different question. And one to which Grace still didn’t know the answer. Along with the passwords.
Before she’d left the previous stop, still riled up about Gill and Bex commandeering her house, Deira had put down the roof so that, Paris or not, she could enjoy the freedom of open-top driving. And if it hadn’t been for her aching side, she would have enjoyed it immensely; the sun was high in the sky and it was glorious to speed along the road without feeling insulated from the world around her.
But every bump in what had looked like a very smooth carriageway was now sending a knifing pain through her, and she wasn’t sure how much more of it she could take. She wished she’d stopped at the motorway services she’d passed ten minutes earlier, but she’d told herself to keep going. Now she knew she’d have to rest again and reconsider her options.
The next sign on the motorway