The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,8
made herself a cup of tea. Then she stretched out on the bed and closed her eyes.
She was completely disoriented when she woke up, aware of the throbbing engines deep within the boat but not knowing what they were. It took a moment for everything to come back to her: the car, the drive, boarding the ferry – and the fact that she’d booked a table for eight o’clock. She looked at her watch. It was seven thirty.
She got up from the bed and used the small en suite bathroom to freshen up. Then she changed into the belted denim dress she’d put into her carry-on bag, glad that she’d added it at the last minute, because the white blouse she’d been wearing was crumpled from her unexpected siesta. She hadn’t bothered with extra shoes; her wedge sandals went well enough with the dress. She brushed her dark curly hair, added some peachy lip gloss and sprayed herself with Jo Malone Grapefruit.
She looked at herself in the mirror, wondering if she’d done enough, or if she needed make-up to hide the pallor of her cheeks and the dark circles that had been under her eyes for the past couple of months. She’d never been much of a make-up person. She was always groomed and presentable for work, but she usually achieved her look with nothing more than mascara and tinted moisturiser to enhance her green eyes and high cheekbones. When they were younger, Gill had frequently told her that she’d drawn the lucky straw as far as looks were concerned. Not that you’re beautiful, she’d say (in case Deira got notions about herself), but there’s a bit of the wild Irish rose about you, what with your black hair and creamy complexion. No need to slap on anything more than a dollop of Nivea.
That had been then, of course, when neither of them had needed more than Nivea, and Gill had taken on the role of mother to her younger sister. She’d mothered their father and their brother too, even though Peter was five years older than her and didn’t really want anyone to mother him at all. But Gill was unyielding. She was the eldest girl and she was the one in charge. Deira had thought of her as overprotective when she was younger. Later on, she couldn’t help thinking that Gill was inherently bossy and had enjoyed being the one who ruled the roost. She’d certainly enjoyed interfering in Deira’s life, that was for sure.
Deira herself was ten when her mum passed away. Gill was fifteen, Peter nineteen. Peter had stayed at home for another year and had then headed off to London, where he’d got a job with one of the rail companies. It suited him perfectly – he’d always been mad about trains. They hadn’t seen him for a few years after he’d left, but when the budget airlines arrived with their cheaper fares, he was back and forward a couple of times a month. Then he married Sarah, the girl he’d been seeing for the best part of a year. He still returned to Ireland regularly with her and their children, Tyler and Sian, but although she’d seen him earlier in the year, Deira had been too busy with an upcoming exhibition to meet him on his last visit.
He’d texted her when he’d heard about Gavin. She’d texted back to say she was fine. He’d sent her a thumbs-up emoji in reply. She hadn’t heard from him since.
Deira didn’t get back to Galway very often herself, and when she did, she preferred to be in the city centre rather than the suburbs with Gill. However, her sister came to Dublin at least half a dozen times in the year, staying in Deira’s canalside mews every time. It had created tension between Deira and Gavin, who wanted to know why her relatives couldn’t stay in a hotel like normal people. Why did they think it was OK to impose on them whenever they came to town? Wasn’t Gill always boasting about how well her husband, Bob, was doing? At which point he’d wink at Deira and she’d laugh, because Bob, like Deira and Gavin, worked in life and pensions. But unlike Gavin, who was on the board of directors, he was stuck at middle management, with no chance of moving any higher.
She sat down abruptly on the bed, overwhelmed by the memories. Back then, it had been her and Gavin against the world. At least, that