The Women Who Ran Away - Sheila O'Flanagan Page 0,92

were carried to her by the soft breeze.

‘I know we haven’t come to any formal arrangement yet,’ she was saying. ‘I understand that. But it’s not right that you should simply walk into the house when—’

There was a long silence, and then Deira spoke again.

‘Yes, I also know that my bloody family taking up residence there at the drop of a hat is a problem. You told me that often enough. But you can’t blame what you did on Bex and Gillian!’

A further pause.

‘Take what you like. I don’t care. I’ll deduct it from the insurance money.’

And with that, Deira ended the call and shoved her phone in her bag. By the time Grace got to her, it was ringing again.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I’ll have to answer it.’

‘Of course.’

Deira stepped away slightly and took the call. ‘What?’ she said.

‘Don’t hang up on me when I’m speaking to you,’ said Gavin. ‘God Almighty, Deira, you’ve turned into the worst sort of bitchy woman. The sort of woman we always despised.’

‘That you despised, for sure,’ she retorted. ‘And if I did, then I regret it. Because if a woman is being bitchy, she usually has a reason. In my case, it’s you.’

‘You have to be reasonable,’ he said. ‘I’m entitled—’

‘I don’t give a toss about your entitlements,’ she said. ‘Take what you want from the house – but not my coffee machine. And don’t upset Bex and her friend either.’

‘You can’t keep the money from the car insurance,’ said Gavin. ‘I need a car. Afton could go into labour at any minute.’

‘You’ve forgotten everything you ever knew about pregnancy,’ said Deira. ‘She’s nowhere near due yet. Unless you lied to me about that too.’

‘No. I didn’t. But the stress—’

‘Give me a break!’ Deira snorted. ‘She’s not under any stress.’

‘Of course she is. It’s her first baby.’

Deira gritted her teeth. ‘Take your stuff, go, and don’t come back,’ she said. ‘I’ll send you the name of my solicitor. It’s time to put this on a more formal footing.’

‘We don’t need solicitors,’ said Gavin. ‘We need to be mature.’

‘Oh, please.’ She snorted again. ‘I’ll text you the details.’

And she hung up again.

‘Things a bit fraught?’ asked Grace when Deira walked back to her.

‘He’s taking bits and pieces from the house while my niece is there,’ Deira said. ‘I feel bad about that. I don’t want her caught in the middle of my domestic dispute.’

Her phone buzzed again as she and Grace began to walk through the plaza, this time with a message from Bex saying that Gavin was gone and asking if she could go back into the house.

Of course, replied Deira. I’m sorry he caused you problems. She added a couple of sad-faced emojis. Bex replied with some of her own, telling her that Gavin appeared to have taken the elegant slimline kettle, the Victorinox kitchen knives, the Bose wireless speakers, the flat-screen TV in the bedroom and the abstract painting that had hung in the living room. Other small things too, she added. But they’re the big bits.

‘It’s not too bad,’ remarked Deira. ‘At least he did as I asked and left me the coffee machine! I’m not impressed with him taking the painting; it was by an artist I exhibited years ago, and I’m sure he took it out of spite. But the rest can be easily replaced. Besides,’ she continued, ‘I never used those knives. I’m not a great cook. All in all, I’m happy that particular drama is over.’

‘I wonder if there are people who never have any dramas or worries in their lives,’ mused Grace.

‘Realistically not,’ replied Deira. ‘Although Tillie does seem to float through hers, only fleetingly having anything to worry about. It might be a state of mind, but I can’t help thinking that she was born under a lucky star.’

‘My mum told me I was,’ said Grace. ‘Born under a lucky star, I mean. After all, I got into the airline when it was a well-paid, glamorous job. I met a guy who provided well for me. I have three great children.’

‘But then your husband became ill and died.’

‘We all die,’ said Grace.

Deira was startled.

‘I was thinking about him earlier,’ Grace said. ‘I don’t want to now. Will we look for the statue?’

‘We don’t have to look far.’ Deira pointed to the centre of the plaza. ‘The man himself.’

‘Except it’s not a photo of Cervantes we want,’ said Grace.

‘Huh?’

‘I read the clue again before I came out,’ she said. ‘Ken wants us to upload a