tomorrow,’ replied Deira. ‘We’re actually driving to Cartagena and this was one of our designated stops along the way. I think Grace will want to head off sometime in the early afternoon.’
‘Sounds fun,’ Charlie said. ‘Though it’s a shame you’re leaving so soon because you really need a couple of days to get the most from the city. Would you like to meet up in the morning before you leave? I could show you around.’
I could meet you for sex, thought Deira. We could spend the morning shagging each other senseless and I could end up pregnant at the end of it.
‘I . . . I think Grace has plans,’ she said. ‘But thank you.’
‘Here’s my own card.’ He handed her a slightly more battered one than Amaya’s. ‘Give me a shout if you need anything. Also, if you’re looking for a nice place to stop . . .’ He reached into his pocket and took out yet another card, ‘can I recommend this? It’s owned by an Irish couple. I’ll be interviewing them for the documentary too. If you get the chance, you should definitely stay a night.’
Deira looked at the card, which was pale green with a sketch of an old-fashioned well and the words ‘El Pozo de la Señora’ written on it. Below that it said ‘Retreat, Relax, Recharge’ and ‘Wellness Centre’.
‘I’m not sure it fits in with Grace’s itinerary,’ said Deira. ‘Or that we have time to retreat and relax. But thanks.’
‘You never know,’ said Charlie. ‘We all need time to do those things.’
Ask me again about tomorrow morning, thought Deira. Ask me and this time I’ll say yes. I don’t know what held me back before.
But then his phone rang, and after a moment, Deira walked out of the shop, closing the door behind her.
She’d left without another word because she was afraid of embarrassing herself by saying out loud the things that were in her head. She walked rapidly, not caring what direction she was taking and not noticing what was around her, until suddenly she found herself on a wide street and saw the city’s famous bullring directly in front of her. There were hordes of tourists outside the gates, but Deira had no interest in going inside, so she made an abrupt turn and walked back towards the old quarter of the city.
She was hungry now, so she stopped at a table outside one of the many bars and ordered a glass of wine and some tapas. She’d just finished eating when she got a message from Bex.
Hi, Deira. I don’t want to freak you out or anything but I’m pretty sure I saw Gavin outside the house earlier today. He was standing on the far side of the street looking at it. I know you two have split up and it seemed really weird. It’s probably me being silly, but if you dumped him and he doesn’t know you’re away, is he being a bit stalker-ish? B x
She read the text through a couple of times.
She’d thought Gavin wasn’t due back until the following day, but clearly she’d been mistaken. Why had he come to the house? To see if the car was parked in front of it? Had he already decided she must have taken it? Had she been caught on CCTV at his apartment? She hadn’t seen any cameras, but then again, she hadn’t looked.
If he thought she’d had something to do with it, he could have called her. It would have been rational for him to phone rather than stand outside the house exactly, as Bex had said, like a stalker. So why hadn’t he? Why had he gone to the home they’d shared and waited outside? To scare her? He had no need to do that. Maybe he’d wanted to check it out, to see if the convertible was there before he called to yell at her.
Don’t worry, she texted to her niece. I think I know what it’s about. I’ll get in touch with him.
Even though he’d definitely yell at her then.
Much to Grace’s surprise, after her earlier siesta, her night’s sleep had been deep and refreshing, without the nightmares that still often plagued her. They’d been nightly immediately after Ken’s death – dreams in which she was with him in the car, trying to save him but drowning alongside him as water poured through the open windows and seaweed entangled itself around their bodies. She would wake up gasping for breath, her heart and her