The Women Who Ran Away: Will their secrets follow them?

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  ‘What we usually suggest is that you hang on to your phone until you’re settled in, take some photos – the views from the back of the house are amazing – book a treatment, and then give it to us,’ said Muireann. ‘You can have it back if you’re walking any of the trails, though. Can I also say that as you’re a bit last-minute, it would be good to know if you want a therapy treatment. Our time slots are limited. I hate to pressure you, because we’re all about no pressure, but I wouldn’t like you to want to have a massage or something and be disappointed.’

  She handed them brochures. Deira elected to have a body scrub and Grace chose a head massage.

  ‘Excellent,’ said Muireann. ‘You’ll be at three thirty, Deira. And you’re at four, Grace. Now, I’ll show you to your rooms. As you’ll see,’ she added as she led them along a dimly lit corridor, ‘there’s water available everywhere. We encourage you to drink as much of it as you can. It’s from our own well and flavoured with our oranges and lemons. And here we are. This room is yours, Deira. Grace, you’re a little further on. Settle in, relax, and if there’s anything you need, just let me know.’

  Deira let herself into the room. It was simply furnished, but, despite not having a TV, there was a digital music system with a selection of restful playlists. Long drapes covered what turned out to be floor-to-ceiling windows that opened out to a Zen garden and spectacular views of the valley.

  Even if it doesn’t work out the way I hope, it’ll have been worth it, she thought as she stepped out into the garden.

  But her heart was beating faster as she thought of Charlie Mulholland.

  As she lay on the treatment table and lost herself in the bliss of having someone massage her temples, Grace was also thinking that it had been a good decision to stop off at the wellness centre. She’d never been a great one for pampering, but she’d been seduced by the serenity of El Pozo de la Señora, and it seemed wrong not to take advantage of it.

  While the therapist gently rubbed her neck, Grace’s thoughts drifted to the treasure hunt. She wondered if Ken had truly expected her to be able to solve all the clues. She’d managed with Deira’s help, but the answers weren’t immediately obvious, and she was pretty sure that on her own, it might have taken longer, and that she’d have used up every single password guess that each clue allowed. By booking the hotels in advance, he had also added unnecessary pressure to the trip. Had he never thought that she might take some time out for herself? To simply enjoy being away?

  He used to say that travelling was about the journey, not the destination, but he’d made this all about destinations. She wondered how he’d feel about her deviation from his plan. Surely he wouldn’t begrudge her being looked after. He used to say that it was important to do the things you loved, and she was loving this.

  To be fair to Ken, he’d loved his own life. He’d loved being who he was. He’d relished every day. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t been able to live it as someone with an illness. Perhaps that was why he’d done what he’d done.

  It was a comfort to think that. A comfort to believe that he hadn’t driven off the pier because he couldn’t bear her to be more important than him. Or because he didn’t love her, or the children, enough to live for them. Perhaps it had only ever been about him, not them. And that, thought Grace, was a kind of relief.

  Chapter 29

  El Pozo de la Señora, Spain: 38.2898°N 4.0287°W

  Deira and Grace met later in the relaxation room, where they lounged on day beds and drank lemon-infused water while looking over the Zen garden towards the valley. They agreed that the treatments had been superb and that they felt totally rested and chilled.

  ‘The original building was a small monastery,’ said Grace, who’d read all the literature in her room. ‘And you’re right, Deira, apparently there’s a spring in the garden that was supposed to have been a holy well.’

  ‘Not that I believe in the power of holy wells or anything, but there’s certainly a great sense of peace and tranquillity here,’ said Deira. ‘And even though Muireann told me there are about a dozen guests, you feel as though this place is yours alone.’

  ‘I haven’t seen another soul,’ said Grace.

  ‘Apparently they come for retreats,’ Deira said.

  ‘Religious retreats?’ Grace looked surprised.

  ‘No. No. Retreats from the world. From the pace of life. And from technology,’ added Deira. ‘They usually stay for a week.’

  ‘That’d be pricey,’ observed Grace.

  ‘I suppose if you feel more centred at the end of it, it would be worth it,’ said Deira. ‘Apparently there’s a town five kilometres away with its own train station. So it’s not as isolated as you’d think. The visitors come for the food, too,’ she continued. ‘They have a vegan kitchen here.’

  ‘I thought I saw beef on the menu,’ said Grace.

  ‘It’s not all vegan,’ Deira assured her. ‘That’s a bit extreme for me, but I might go veggie tonight. I’m happy not to eat meat if the alternative is appetising.’

  They sat in silence again for a few minutes before Grace turned to Deira and asked if she’d seen any sign of Charlie Mulholland.

  ‘Not so far,’ replied Deira. ‘I was going to ask Muireann if he was around, but I thought that would sound very pointed. If he’s here, I guess dinner will be the time to see him.’

  ‘Have you a plan if he is?’ asked Grace.

  ‘None of my plans have worked out very well,’ Deira replied.

  ‘Perhaps this will be different,’ said Grace, and they lapsed into silence again.

  There was no sign of Charlie at dinner. Deira didn’t know if she felt relieved or disappointed. Afterwards, she and Grace decided to go for a walk along one of the trails.

  ‘Maybe it’s for the best,’ said Grace.

  ‘Probably,’ Deira agreed. ‘I’ve made such an eejit out of myself these last few months that I couldn’t guarantee not to do it again.’

  ‘Ah, Deira, you’ve been through a tough time,’ said Grace. ‘Cut yourself a little slack.’

  ‘You’re very comforting, you know that?’

  ‘Life is hard enough without us being hard on each other,’ said Grace. ‘And I’m sorry I was harsh before.’

  ‘I need harsh,’ said Deira. ‘I need to face up to the things I can’t change.’

  Grace gave her a sympathetic smile as they continued along the trail.

  ‘Oh!’ exclaimed Deira after they’d gone a few hundred metres in silence. ‘How amazing.’

  They gazed at the panoramic view of the valley in front of them, an unexpected oasis of green among the dustiness of the mountains.

  ‘Regardless of your motives, I’m glad you suggested this stopover,’ said Grace as they sat on a strategically placed wooden bench. ‘I truly do feel recharged.’

  Deira wasn’t sure if recharged was the right word for how she was feeling herself. The massage had been relaxing, the dinner superb and the walk enjoyable, but she was conscious of a sense of anticlimax at the fact that Charlie Mulholland wasn’t here. It wasn’t that she could really have expected his work to coincide with the one night that she and Grace were staying at the wellness centre, but she’d had this feeling of fate about him. Meeting him on the boat, at the service station, in Pamplona – those things had seemed more than chance. But unlike Tillie, she didn’t believe in fate.

  ‘We should go back,’ she said to Grace. ‘It’s getting late and I don’t fancy following that trail in the dark.’

  When they returned to the building, Grace said that she was going to have an early night and allow herself the full benefit of her massage. Deira was happy to chill out too. She’d given her phone to Muireann, but kept her iPad, and sat in her room scrolling through her photographs. She saw herself age alongside Gavin, and wondered at exactly what point he’d fallen out of love with her enough to want to sleep with somebody else.

  In her own room, Grace was scrolling through photographs too, although hers went back a
good deal further than Deira’s. Fionn had digitised their old family snapshots when he was at college, and the result was nearly ten thousand photos detailing their family life. She stopped at the ones of their holidays in France, remembering the moment each one was taken, finding it hard to believe that some of them were from over twenty years ago. There were very few of herself and Ken together – in the days before selfies, one or other of them had always been taking the snap. But she paused at one that she remembered Aline taking, where they were sitting on the bonnet of the car at one of the service stations on the way to La Rochelle. She’d automatically stopped at that service station on this trip too. Even though he was gone, Ken was still with her. Still beside her every step of the way.

  When Deira awoke with a jump, she had no idea what time it was. The blackout curtains on her windows didn’t allow the slightest bit of light to enter, and it took almost a minute for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. It was still night-time, she realised, when she got out of bed and parted the heavy drapes. But although the sky was black, it was lit by more stars than she’d ever seen before.

  The information package on El Pozo de la Señora that had been left in the room had promised spectacular night skies thanks to the lack of light pollution in the area, but Deira hadn’t imagined it could be like this. Instead of the dozen or so isolated stars she could normally make out when she looked upwards, there were hundreds above her. Maybe even thousands. Or perhaps hundreds of thousands. They were bright enough for her to be able to check her watch and see that it was almost four thirty in the morning.

  In Dublin, at this hour, dawn would be creeping over the horizon, but further south, as she was now, it was still a couple of hours away. She slipped the catch on the door and stepped outside. Despite the altitude, the air still retained some of the warmth of the previous day, and she didn’t need any more than the light pyjamas she was wearing. She sat on a wicker chair and gazed into the distance. Apart from the stars, the only other light was a small cluster in the distance that she presumed was the village in the valley.

  She felt small and insignificant in the grand scheme of the universe. In knowing that she was sitting on a rock hurtling through space. She’d watched several popular science programmes in the past and she knew that the distances were enormous. She also knew that many scientists believed that there had to be other life forms out there. And she wondered if somewhere in that vast expanse of space there was someone else like her, someone whose life had been ripped apart because the person they’d cared for most in the world had betrayed them. Not that I have to head out to space for that, she told herself. Don’t humans betray each other every single day?

  She got up from the chair and walked barefoot along the smooth stone paths of the Zen garden. She kept going until she reached the more uncultivated space beyond, treading gingerly on the dry grass. As she rounded a corner, she gave a muted exclamation, because ahead of her, someone was sitting on a boulder doing as she’d been doing earlier, staring up at the sky.

  The figure turned towards her and her mouth formed an O of both surprise and satisfaction.

  Because the man in front of her was Charlie Mulholland.

  She exhaled slowly.

  Fate was on her side after all.

  Grace had woken up a few minutes before Deira. She too had been unsure of the time and had parted the heavy curtains to look outside. And she’d also opened the door and stepped into the stillness of the night. She’d seen Deira emerge from her own room and walk through the garden, but she hadn’t called out to her because it seemed to her that Deira needed some time and space of her own. In other circumstances Grace might have followed her to make sure she was all right, but somehow here, in the wellness retreat, she was sure that Deira would be fine. There was an atmosphere of tranquillity and other-worldliness that wasn’t only down to the fact that the sky was ablaze with usually unseen stars, or that the staff were almost invisible in their unobtrusiveness, or even that the guests were unhooked from the technology that normally tied them to the everyday world. It came from the place itself, and from how it made you feel. And right now, at four thirty in the morning, Grace was more at peace than she’d been in months.

  Her personal peacefulness was for a different reason than she would have expected. It was because she was, for the first time since his death, in a place that wasn’t associated with Ken. He’d never been here before, either with her or without her. He’d never driven along the narrow road that led to El Pozo de la Señora. He’d never eaten in the restaurant, or walked the mountain trail, or sat here, as she was doing, looking out into the darkness. He couldn’t make a comment about how she should be spending her time, or quote one of his favourite authors at her, or point at one of the stars and tell her what it was.

  This wasn’t his place.

  This wasn’t their place.

  It was hers alone.

  And right now, alone was exactly what she wanted to be.

  ‘You’ve done something to your hair,’ said Charlie as Deira approached him. ‘It’s nice.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Deira was flattered he’d noticed.

  ‘And you decided to come here.’

  ‘We were on the road,’ Deira said. ‘It seemed a shame not to stop. I’m glad we did, because it’s beautiful.’

  ‘I first came when Muireann and Alfie opened it,’ Charlie said. ‘I’ve kept an eye on them ever since. It was such a brave thing to do in such an out-of-the-way place.’

  ‘Muireann told us that it isn’t really out-of-the-way at all.’

  ‘Regardless of how good the motorway is, or even if you get the train to the town, it’s still a bit of a trek through the mountains to get here,’ said Charlie. ‘And I like that. I like having to make an effort.’

  Deira nodded. ‘I liked that too. And I’m sure your documentary will bring a lot more visitors. Have you started your interviews?’

  ‘We’re nearly finished,’ Charlie replied. ‘We arrived yesterday and did some filming, and then did the rest of the interviewing today.’

  ‘It’s a pity Grace and I didn’t see you earlier. We could’ve been on TV.’

  ‘I could still do a piece with you if you like.’ He smiled. ‘A guest chilling out beneath the stars. They do astronomy sessions, you know, though mostly in the winter months.’

  ‘Maybe I’ll come back for that sometime. Are you staying here long?’

  ‘No. We’re heading off in the morning. We’ve got to go back to France to do the interview we missed out on before.’

  ‘It must be an interesting job.’

  ‘It’s like all jobs,’ said Charlie. ‘Sometimes it’s great, sometimes not so much. Other people always think it’s more glamorous than it is.’ He grinned. ‘Amaya says the same about the gallery. People think that working with artists is always a joy, but she says it can also be a pain. I’m sure you think so too.’

  ‘I’m not trying to sell the art, so it’s a bit different for me,’ said Deira.

  ‘Would you ever consider a gallery of your own?’

  Deira shook her head. ‘I like what I do now. It’s changed over the years, of course, but I still enjoy it.’ Which was true, even if working at Solas had become a good deal more difficult than it had been when she and Gavin were a couple.

  ‘Maybe I should do a programme on women in business,’ said Charlie. ‘That way I could interview you.’

  ‘Women in business are the same as men in business except we do it in high heels,’ said Deira.

  Charlie laughed.

  ‘Seriously. We’re not a special breed. We just have to work bloody hard.’

  ‘I get that,’ said Charlie.

  ‘And then we get shafted by some guy who—’ She broke off. ‘It doesn’t matter. That’s not what I want to talk to you about.’

  ‘Is there something you do want to talk about?’ asked Charlie.

  ‘Maybe.’

  She paused before speaking again, because a shooting star streaked
across the sky. Charlie told her to make a wish.

  ‘Too late for that,’ she told him.

  ‘It’s never too late to make a wish,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Did you ever wish you had a child of your own?’ She put the question abruptly, and he raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘After all,’ she continued, ‘Amaya had . . . Iñaki, was it? But you and she didn’t have a child. Was that difficult for you?’

  ‘I loved Iñaki from the first moment I saw him,’ said Charlie. ‘I still do.’

  ‘But a child of your own is different.’

  ‘Not to me, really,’ said Charlie.

  ‘You never wanted one?’

  Charlie hesitated. ‘It’s not—’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Deira interrupted him. ‘I realise I sound like I’m quizzing you. I don’t mean to. At least, not that way. It’s just that . . .’

  ‘What?’

  She took a deep breath before she spoke. ‘I want a baby.’

  She could see from Charlie’s expression that he was uncomfortable with the conversation. She understood. She was uncomfortable too. But she had to speak and she had to do it now, before she changed her mind.

  ‘I want a baby, but I’ve split up with my long-term partner,’ she continued. ‘I should have insisted while I had the chance. Unfortunately, I didn’t realise it then.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Charlie.

  ‘Me too,’ said Deira. ‘And of course my options are more limited now. I should’ve frozen my eggs when I was younger. Given myself a better chance. Still, it’s not impossible.’

  Another shooting star crossed the sky. This time she made a wish.

  ‘I wished to find a good man who’d be happy to have a baby with me,’ she told Charlie.

  ‘I hope you find him,’ he said.

  ‘I think I already have.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  ‘Charlie . . .’ She turned to him and spoke rapidly. ‘It’s you. I want to have a baby with you. You can be as involved or not as you like in its care. I don’t mind. I’m not asking for anything. I can look after a child myself. I’m in a fairly decent place financially.’