The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,68
could see a certain sense in Grace’s words, but she suspected that putting her husband’s actions into perspective was easier to say than to do. Deciding to cope with pretty much everything difficult was easier to say than to do. Looking at her own situation, and leaving aside the particular trauma of the fire and its outcome, there were thirteen years with Gavin for her to come to grips with. And no matter what Grace said, those thirteen years were a massive chunk of her life that she’d never get back.
Her hand moved involuntarily towards her stomach again as she felt her womb positively twang with raw longing. The intensity of it shocked her every single time.
‘Do you want to look at the clue for Pamplona?’ Grace asked. ‘I haven’t clicked on it yet.’
Deira ignored her womb and pushed all thoughts of babies from her mind. She nodded, and Grace double-clicked the link.
Hi, Hippo – you’ve made it to another clue, and this time it’s really easy. What’s the number of the Old Man’s room? Upload Hemingway himself for the final number – the sign you want is near a place he loved. Your reward letter is P. And that’s it for Pamplona. I couldn’t have made it any easier if I’d tried. Eight guesses this time! Good luck.
‘He’s giving me fewer guesses with each clue,’ said Grace. ‘I’ll be lucky to get to the end.’
‘We didn’t need them all the last time, and he’s right that this one has to be relatively easy,’ observed Deira. ‘The Old Man is definitely Hemingway.’
‘Yes, I got that.’
‘And the room must be where he stayed whenever he was there,’ said Deira. ‘I have a vague memory of him being associated with a specific hotel, but I can’t remember the name of it. It’ll be easy to look up, though. And places he loved – well, I remember there was a bar or café . . .’ She smiled suddenly. ‘What is it with grizzled old male writers and their bars and cafés? I wonder did they hold court there, talk about their brilliance, big themselves up?’
‘Probably,’ agreed Grace. ‘But it doesn’t matter who or where they are, I reckon men always like to make themselves feel important.’ She looked up from the laptop. ‘Are you sure you’re happy to keep solving clues and trekking along with me, Deira?’
‘Absolutely,’ Deira replied. ‘This treasure hunt – well, it’s keeping my mind off other things.’
‘OK then,’ said Grace. ‘Anyhow, I know the hotel already. It’s the Gran Hotel La Perla. That’s where I’m staying. I looked it up before I came, and the website mentions Hemingway as well as other famous people who’ve stayed there.’
Deira nodded. ‘If we’re going to keep doing this together, I should book myself into hotels on the route too. I’m a great one for leaving things till the last minute, but it would be better to know where I’m going.’
‘You’re right,’ said Grace. ‘The next shed mightn’t be as attractive as your remise! Book the same ones as me if you can. In Bordeaux it’s an Ibis.’ She clicked on the computer a couple of times and found the website. ‘Here.’ She pushed the laptop over to Deira, who booked a room at the Ibis for the following night. But when she continued on to the Gran Perla’s website, the hotel was fully booked.
‘It’s probably very popular, given its history,’ she said. ‘I’ll see if I can get something else nearby.’ She amended her search and found a small, reasonably priced alternative a few streets away. From the photos on the site and the comments of guests, it seemed a pleasant place to stay, so she made a reservation. Then she looked at hotels in Alcalá de Henares, where Ken had reserved Grace a room in a boutique hotel near the university.
‘I know it’s an Ibis tomorrow, but I can’t believe he’s gone for expensive boutique-style places everywhere else,’ Grace said while Deira looked through the available rooms. ‘The Gran Perla is very pricey. It’s so unlike him.’
‘He wanted to look after you,’ said Deira.
‘Yes, well . . .’
Deira busied herself with the reservation while Grace stared out over the dark sea.
‘OK,’ she said finally. ‘I’m all set.’
‘Great,’ said Grace. ‘Let’s not think about treasure hunts or anything else until tomorrow night. Would you like a glass of wine?’
‘Yes, I would. But you stay there. I’ll get it.’
And Deira went inside the hotel, leaving Grace alone with Brigitte.