The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,86

glad you understood it. OK, there must be a statue – or a sign, like Hemingway’s – around somewhere. But Sister Iñez and Sister Julia? Obviously they’re nuns. Have you any idea what that’s all about? Is there a convent in the city that’s associated with Cervantes?’

‘There’s certainly a monastery,’ said Grace. ‘But I don’t know if he’s linked to it in any way. Or if it has anything to do with a convent.’

‘Perhaps Iñez and Julia were done for hopping over the convent wall and fraternising with the monks.’ Deira grinned.

Grace raised an eyebrow. ‘I hope that wasn’t what led to their demise.’

‘I hope so too. Anyhow,’ continued Deira, ‘I know we have to figure out the nuns bit, but overall I think the clues are getting easier.’

‘You do?’ Grace looked doubtful. ‘We nearly didn’t get Pamplona, even though Ken said it was easy.’

‘But we did,’ said Deira. ‘And we didn’t need all those guesses. We’re a good team.’

‘I’m glad you think so.’

‘No doubt about it.’

‘Like I said before, it’s about four hours to Alcalá de Henares, allowing for a stop.’ Grace studied Google Maps. ‘Pretty direct, though.’

‘And after that, no more than an hour to Toledo,’ observed Deira.

‘And then about three and a half hours to Granada.’ Grace added it as a destination and followed up with the address of her apartment, a further three and a half hours away.

‘You know, we’re doing so well on the clues, we could probably finish it all in a couple of days,’ said Deira. ‘Then you could get to your apartment quicker.’

‘But we wouldn’t get to explore the various cities,’ said Grace. ‘Ken and I talked a lot about travelling through Spain and staying in out-of-the-way places. I guess this is partly his way of making me do it.’

‘To be fair, none of these places is particularly out of the way,’ said Deira.

‘Well, no,’ agreed Grace.

‘Though we could add a more secluded destination if you like.’ The thought had been in her mind ever since Charlie had given her the business card.

‘Where?’

Deira took the card out of her bag. ‘It’s somewhere between Granada and Cartagena,’ she said. ‘En route, so to speak.’

‘How do you know it?’ asked Grace.

Deira cleared her throat. ‘That guy, Charlie, gave it to me. He said it was worth a visit.’

Grace’s glance flickered from the card to Deira and back again.

‘Will he be there?’

‘He plans to interview the owners, though I don’t know exactly when. Probably not for ages,’ she added.

‘Is there something going on between you two?’ Grace put the card down. She didn’t look at Deira as she typed the address into Google Maps. ‘Did something happen last night?’

‘No!’ exclaimed Deira a little too forcefully. ‘He was a nice, agreeable kind of man and this place sounded interesting. I thought it might be fun to visit.’

‘And that’s it?’

‘Seriously, Grace. There’s nothing between us,’ said Deira, even as she clamped down on her visions of having sex with Charlie Mulholland. ‘He seems to be very close to his ex-wife.’

‘I’m sure that wouldn’t stop him sleeping with you if that’s what you wanted. Do you?’

‘For heaven’s sake!’ Deira felt herself blush.

‘It’s not an unreasonable question given your circumstances. Given what you’ve already told me.’

Deira could hear disapproval in every word. ‘I . . . It was an idea. That’s all.’

‘Ken’s itinerary doesn’t allow us time for heading off into the mountains, which is where this place is.’ Grace turned the laptop towards her.

‘I’ve no problem sticking with the itinerary.’ Deira’s glance at the map was fleeting as she stood up. ‘We’d better get on our way, don’t you think? I still have to check out of my hotel.’

‘Deira—’

‘It’s fine. Everything’s fine,’ said Deira. ‘I’ll see you back here in half an hour or so.’

She left the room without waiting for a response.

When Deira returned nearly forty minutes later, Grace was standing by her car, which was parked outside the hotel. Grace opened the boot and Deira stowed her bag before getting into the passenger seat. Almost immediately, Grace started the engine and moved away.

‘Did I delay you?’ asked Deira.

‘No,’ replied Grace. ‘It’s just that they expect you to go as soon as they bring the car from the car park.’

‘Sorry.’

‘Not a problem.’

But there was a problem, thought Deira, because she could feel a tension in the air between them, an atmosphere in which it would be easy to say the wrong thing. Or, to be accurate, more of the wrong thing, because she’d started it by suggesting