The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,81

her own, but she could also see that there was a connection between her and Charlie. Enough to make sure they were on the same page as each other. Meanwhile, Grace herself was invisible to him. It wasn’t that she’d been thinking that anything could happen between her and Charlie, but she was aware that she’d been sidelined in the conversation, shunted out of the way, while he and Deira had almost naturally slid into an easy familiarity that excluded her.

‘I think I overdid it earlier.’ She drained her water. ‘I’m really sorry, but I need to go and lie down.’

‘Grace! Are you OK? Do you want me to go back to the hotel with you?’ Deira looked at her with concern.

‘No, I’m fine,’ said Grace. ‘I just need to be alone for a while.’ She picked up her bag.

‘Are you sure you don’t—’

‘I’m fine,’ repeated Grace. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow sometime.’

‘But what about the—’

She’d gone before Deira had time to finish the sentence.

Chapter 22

Pamplona, Spain: 42.8125°N 1.6458°W

Back at the hotel, Grace curled up in the comfortable armchair in her room. She felt silly now at having rushed from the café simply because she’d been upset by the mutual attraction she’d sensed between Deira and Charlie. She didn’t quite understand it. After all, she wasn’t seriously attracted to him herself. But the idea that she was too old to be noticed by a man was depressing. She didn’t want anyone new in her life, but nor did she want to think that she’d become the invisible woman. It was crushing to think that no matter how much care she took over her appearance, nobody – male or female – would take the slightest bit of notice, because she was now part of the army of older women who, at best, fell into the category of ‘looking good for her age’.

She reached for the laptop, opening the link to upload her photograph of Hemingway. At least, she thought, as she watched the progress bar creep along the screen, she’d solved this clue herself without any input from Deira O’Brien. Grace was suddenly fed up with Deira and her ability to solve Ken’s clues so easily. Acknowledging that she was being irrational didn’t make her feel any better. She wished she hadn’t made her impetuous invitation to the younger woman to come along on the trip with her. She hardly knew her, for heaven’s sake. Why would she need her looking over her shoulder?

Photo is not a match.

She looked at the message in disbelief. How could it not be a match? It was Hemingway. And it was in a place he loved. It had to be right. Unless there was something wrong with that particular photo. She’d taken a few from different angles. Maybe a different one would work.

It was weird, she thought, her mind wandering back to the bar again as she browsed through the photos, that she should feel disconcerted in thinking Charlie Mulholland’s attention towards her had evaporated the moment Deira had walked into the Café Iruña. In her entire married life she’d never so much as looked at another man or wondered if a complete stranger might fancy her. She’d been married to Ken and that was enough. Except when Matthew McConaughey was on TV, and surely any woman would be given a pass for him!

She closed her eyes and tried to imagine Ken beside her now. It was hard to see him as he had been before his illness. Hard not to remember him as a weaker version of himself. He’d always been her rock. And if not always there for her, he had, at least, always been part of her life.

And yet here she was, thinking about another man. Not fantasising about him, not thinking inappropriately about him, but thinking about him all the same. And jealous (really, Grace, she said to herself, really?) that he seemed to have a closer rapport with Deira than with her.

She chose another photo and uploaded it.

Photo is not a match.

For crying out loud! She looked at the screen in irritation. It had to be a match. She tried a third.

Photo is not a match.

She snapped the computer closed and flung herself on the bed.

Her headache had returned.

‘I hope she’s OK,’ Deira said after Grace had hurried out of the bar. ‘She’s behaving oddly for her.’

‘Do you want to go after her?’

Deira shook her head. ‘She has her reasons for acting oddly from time to time. I should stay out