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

by Sheila O'Flanagan

  He stared at her without speaking.

  ‘So there’d be nothing for you to worry about at all,’ she added.

  ‘Except for the fact that I don’t know you or anything about you and yet you want me to be your baby’s father,’ said Charlie.

  ‘You know I’m a reasonably sensible person,’ said Deira. ‘That I have a well-paid job. That I’ll take care of the baby, give it a good home and a good life.’

  ‘I don’t know any of those things,’ said Charlie. ‘What I do know is that based on our very casual acquaintance, you’ve pretty much asked me to be a sperm donor. Which actually doesn’t sound like something a reasonably sensible person would do.’

  ‘I . . .’ Deira closed her eyes. When she opened them again, she saw that Charlie had got up from the boulder and taken a few steps away from her. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I got a bit carried away. I didn’t mean to imply that you were simply a donor.’

  ‘You didn’t imply it. You said it.’ Charlie’s words were clipped. ‘Women go through life understandably demanding that they’re not objectified, but that’s what you’ve done to me. I enjoyed your company when we met before. I liked talking to you. And now I realise that all the time you were simply weighing up the quality of my sperm and the likelihood of your getting it.’ He turned back to her. ‘Did you come here deliberately to meet me again and ask me this question? Would you have asked me some other way if we hadn’t met tonight?’

  She shouldn’t have been upfront with him. She should have tried seduction. Or something. She was an idiot.

  ‘I’m sorry you feel like that. I only—’

  ‘How do you expect me to feel? To you I’m nothing more than a walking sperm bank.’

  ‘That’s not true. You’re kind and interesting and—’

  ‘A sperm bank with good qualities, obviously.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Deira. ‘I really am. I thought . . .’

  ‘What? That men are happy to have sex with a random stranger and not care about the consequences?’

  ‘There seem to be a lot who are.’

  ‘You have a very poor opinion of us, don’t you?’

  ‘Based on experience,’ said Deira.

  ‘Great. You hate men but you still need one to father a child for you. So you’re prepared to put up with us to get what you want. You’ll put up with me.’

  ‘You’re getting it all wrong,’ said Deira.

  ‘I’m not. What’s all wrong is your mindset,’ Charlie said. ‘You think you’re entitled to have a child, but it’s a privilege, not a right. I’m truly sorry that your previous choices have left you where you are now. However, that’s your issue to deal with.’

  ‘Charlie . . .’

  He turned away from her so that he was looking into the distance.

  ‘I could lie and say it would be fine and I could sleep with you,’ he said. ‘I could have a moment’s pleasure for no pain. And you could walk away and still not be pregnant.’

  ‘I know. I’m prepared to take that chance.’

  He said nothing.

  Neither did she.

  Another shooting star cut across the sky. She made her wish again.

  Charlie turned to face her again.

  ‘You’d be taking a chance with terrible odds,’ he said. ‘Amaya and I did try for a child. It didn’t happen. Given that she’d had a baby before, it wasn’t her fault. My sperm count is low. So of all the men in the world you could have chosen, you’ve picked the wrong one. I guess that’s some kind of karma, isn’t it.’

  She looked wordlessly at him.

  ‘Are you still interested?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh Charlie . . .’

  ‘Thought not,’ he said, and walked away.

  Chapter 30

  Sierra de Andujar to Granada: 165 km

  Grace was worried. Although she hadn’t seen Deira since she’d walked through the Zen garden earlier, the sound of her conversation had carried across the night air. She hadn’t been able to make out the words, nor did she know who Deira was speaking to, but the tone was evident. Deira was upset, and the man was angry.

  Grace knew it was possible that Deira had succeeded in meeting Charlie Mulholland, which would mean she’d achieved her objective in coming to El Pozo de la Señora. But the heated tone that had reached her made her feel that, if so, things hadn’t worked out according to plan. It was equally possible that Deira had found someone else among the guests whom she thought could be a likely father to her child and had met him in the middle of the night. But whatever the situation, it wasn’t going well.

  Grace didn’t want to interfere in the other woman’s life, but she couldn’t help being concerned about her. And so when Deira still hadn’t returned thirty minutes after all sounds of conversation had ceased, she went to investigate.

  Years of watching crime drama on TV had her nerves on end as she followed Deira’s path through the garden and beyond. The total silence of her surroundings meant that her breath echoed in her own head, like a diver wearing an aqualung, and she was uncomfortably aware that even in the cosiest of Sunday-evening murder mysteries, people who investigated things without calling the police usually ended up dead. She told herself that she was being silly (Ken used to call her a catastrophist, always imagining the worst), but Deira was going through a hard time, and Grace couldn’t help being anxious.

  The area beyond the Zen garden was uncultivated, and in the light of the stars, Grace could see that it was composed mainly of sandy soil, scrub grass and olive trees that had obviously been there a very long time. As she looked around, she felt her anxiety levels soar. Was there a potential murderer hiding behind one of the trees, ready to pounce? Had the angry man already done away with Deira? Would she be better off going back to the hotel and raising the alarm?

  When she heard the sound of footsteps approaching, she almost screamed.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ asked Deira as she emerged from the shadows. ‘Are you following me?’

  ‘No.’ Grace’s heart was still racing. ‘I wanted to check that you were OK.’

  ‘How did you know I was outside?’

  ‘I was awake. I saw you walk through the garden. When you didn’t come back, I was afraid something might have happened.’

  ‘What could have happened to me out here in the middle of nowhere?’ asked Deira.

  ‘It’s because it’s the middle of nowhere that I was worried,’ confessed Grace.

  ‘There’s no need to worry,’ said Deira. ‘I’m absolutely fine.’

  And then, almost inevitably, she burst into tears.

  Grace put her arm around her and led her back through the garden to her own room, where she put on the kettle and made Deira a cup of camomile tea.

  ‘It’s all they have, I’m afraid,’ she said, handing it to her. ‘But better than nothing. D’you want to sit outside? There’s more space.’

  Deira allowed herself to be led to the small patio area outside the room and sat in one of the comfortable chairs. Grace sat beside her. Fingers of light were appearing at the edges of the sky now, and the chirping of birds was added to the nocturnal sounds. Deira sat in silence and sipped her tea as she gazed at the horizon. Grace didn’t speak.

  Eventually Deira put the half-empty cup on the small mosaic table between them and looked at the older woman.

  ‘I suppose you want to know what I was doing,’ she said.

  ‘I don’t care what you were doing,’ said Grace. ‘You don’t have to tell me. The only reason I was worried was because I thought I heard you arguing with someone. Then I heard nothing at all. And I know I was letting my imagination run away with me, but . . .’

  ‘You’re a really good person.’ Deira smiled faintly at her. ‘For all you knew I could have been bashed over the head, but you came looking anyhow.’

  ‘I was very much afraid you might have been,’ admitted Grace. ‘I did think that maybe you’d had a clandestine meeting planned with Charlie, though as we ha
dn’t seen him earlier, I couldn’t be sure that was it. I also wondered if your ex might have turned up and was having a go at you about the car. I know that’s ridiculous, because he doesn’t know where you are, but even so, I was a bit worried.’

  ‘There was no need. Not about my being bashed over the head by a stranger, or by Gavin either.’ Deira rubbed her eyes, then took a sip of the tea. ‘You were right about it being Charlie, although meeting him was by chance. I’ve made such a fool of myself.’

  ‘How?’

  Grace listened in silence as Deira told her about their conversation.

  ‘Such a stupid, stupid plan,’ said Deira when she’d finished. ‘How could I have ever thought it was a good idea? Begging him to sleep with me to make me pregnant. As though it was a transaction. As though he was someone I’d picked off a shelf! Did I really expect him to jump into bed with me and hang the consequences?’

  ‘You’re not yourself at the moment,’ said Grace. ‘All this with your ex, with the car, it’s affected you.’

  ‘Truthfully, what affected me this time was Bex,’ said Deira.

  ‘Your niece? How?’

  Deira explained about Bex’s abortion and the despair she’d felt inside when she’d told her. ‘It sort of unhinged me,’ she said. ‘It made me feel as though I had to do something quickly to have a baby of my own. To replace the one that Bex . . . I understand why she felt she had to do what she did. I really do. And I absolutely respect her right to make the decision. I just wish . . . I wish it could’ve been different.’

  ‘I’m so, so sorry,’ said Grace. ‘It’s been a tough time for you.’

  ‘I think I’m going crazy.’ Deira’s hands were shaking as she replaced the cup on the table. ‘I can’t get my head around my life right now. I feel . . . flayed. As though everything that touches me hurts and I hurt everyone and everything right back.’

  ‘We all go a bit crazy at some point,’ said Grace. ‘You’ll come out of this, Deira. I know you will.’

  ‘I’ve humiliated myself in front of a really nice guy. And I’ve humiliated him too because I forced him into telling me something personal about himself that he otherwise wouldn’t have said. I’m so ashamed.’

  Grace was dying with curiosity to know what that was, but she didn’t ask. Instead she told Deira that he’d move on from it and she was sure Deira would too.

  ‘I hope so. He’ll probably use me as some kind of warning story to his mates,’ said Deira. ‘Batshit-crazy baby lady. That’s who I’ve become. God.’ She buried her head in her hands.

  ‘You made a mistake, but you’ll never see him again so there’s no point in worrying about it,’ Grace said. ‘Let it go.’

  Deira looked up at her. ‘So many things I should let go. So many things that seem to be mocking me. Why can’t life work out like it does in the movies, where everyone ends up happy?’

  ‘Movies don’t always have happy endings,’ observed Grace.

  ‘I only watch ones that do,’ said Deira. ‘Life’s crap enough.’

  ‘I know.’ Grace shrugged. ‘But even happy endings don’t go on forever.’

  ‘I suppose I wanted to think . . . Well, Gavin left his wife for me, and his children hated me for it. I wanted to believe that they would respect me eventually for having such a great relationship with their dad. I wanted to believe we did have a happy ending together and that it was worth it. But we didn’t. So what was it all for, in the end? All that pain and misery and everyone blaming us. Blaming me.’ Deira reached for the cup again and finished the tea. ‘Something Charlie said made me think again,’ she added. ‘About who I am and what I want and, well, everything.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He said it was a privilege, not a right, to have a child. Yes, it’s something that most of us want, but just because we want it doesn’t mean we should have it.’ She exhaled slowly. ‘Maybe there’s a reason I’m childless. After my mum died, I often wished I hadn’t been born. I thought it was really selfish of her to have had children when she wasn’t around to look after us – obviously that was nuts, because she wasn’t expecting to die, but I still blamed her. Especially because I was lumbered with Gill looking after me, and Gill is, at heart, a tyrant.’

  ‘Hardly a tyrant.’ Grace raised an eyebrow. ‘Surely?’

  ‘OK, she’s bossy,’ amended Deira. ‘She likes being in charge. She likes ordering people around. Anyway, that’s neither here nor there; what’s important is that I often felt that as far as my parents were concerned, I was a mistake.’

  ‘Deira!’

  ‘Not just me, all of us. She and Dad didn’t have the best of marriages. We all knew things weren’t great. Not that they intended their marriage to be crap, of course, but when they realised – when she realised – it was dodgy, why did she have more children? Why didn’t she stop with Peter or Gill? It was selfish of them to have kids in those circumstances. I’d hate a child to feel that I’d had him or her for a selfish motive, but that’s what they’d think, isn’t it? I’d certainly love my child, just as I’m sure my mum loved us, but I might not give them the life they deserve. A happy life.’

  ‘Love gives children a happy life,’ said Grace. ‘Losing your mum was a tragedy for you and clearly it had an effect on you. But it doesn’t mean you can’t and won’t love your own child. Or that he or she won’t love you.’

  ‘You have a point,’ agreed Deira. ‘But no matter how much you love someone, you still have to have a plan. And I’m not sure how good my single-working-woman plan would be. Sometimes it has to be more than love.’

  ‘Lots of people have children in difficult circumstances and things turn out fine,’ said Grace. ‘Being a parent isn’t like an office job, Deira.’

  ‘I realise that, of course,’ Deira said. ‘But I can’t help thinking that me and my baby could be one of those times when it all goes to pot. Where the mum is perpetually exhausted and the child is miserable. I was perfectly fine without children when I was with Gavin because I was happy with our life. If he’d left me for someone else who wasn’t pregnant, I don’t think I’d have lost it the way I did. But . . .’ She frowned. ‘But it’s like my body has taken me over. My womb has been positively pulsating with the need to have something in there. All I wanted to do was make it feel right. I didn’t think about finding someone and building a relationship or any of that stuff. I just wanted to have a baby.’

  ‘It’s a very strong urge,’ said Grace.

  ‘Not one that I had before,’ Deira said. ‘I wasn’t devastated when Gavin said no that first time. I was upset, but I got over it. It’s only because of Afton that I’ve lost the plot now. I wanted to have what she had. And if it wasn’t going to be the man I thought was the love of my life, it was definitely going to be a baby. So all of my reasons were the wrong ones.’

  ‘Don’t beat yourself up about it,’ said Grace. ‘Everyone goes a bit nuts from time to time. And Deira, maybe the reasons you wanted a baby seem shallow to you now, but perhaps there was something more fundamental going on with you. Perhaps you did always want a child.’

  ‘If I did, I’ve left it too late.’

  ‘Not necessarily.’

  ‘I think I have,’ said Deira. ‘And I need to face up to that. I need to face up to me. But I’m too bloody tired to do it now.’

  She closed her eyes. And as dawn broke over the mountains, she fell asleep.

  When Grace woke from her own fragmented sleep later that morning, Deira was still out for the count on the lounger, shaded from the sun by the wide canopy that extended over the patio. Grace had a shower and got dressed and then, as Deira was still sleeping, went to breakfast without her.

  Charlie Mulholland was at a table with two other men when she walked into the breakfast room. He looked up and saw her, acknowledging her with an almost imperceptible nod of the head. She could see that he was looking past her too, obviously trying to work out if Deira was with her. She supposed he was relieved when he saw that she wasn’t.r />
  Grace selected an assortment of fruit and yoghurt and sat at a small table in the corner of the room. It occurred to her, as she peeled an orange, that the last few months of her life had been filled with the kind of drama that she’d never associated with a woman like her. A suburban mother and grandmother. Someone who always put other people first. Even though it had been a wrench to give up her job with the airline, she’d always assumed that being a wife and mother was what she was supposed to be. And she’d been happy doing it, at least most of the time. But now she was a widow and her children were grown up, and her husband, the man who’d orchestrated the direction of their joint lives for so many years, had no say in matters any more. When the great anniversary treasure hunt was over, that would be the end of Ken telling her what to do. Was it wrong to feel a certain excitement about that future? Was it wrong to think that perhaps there were new opportunities ahead? A different kind of life for her?

  ‘Hi.’

  She looked up and saw Charlie standing in front of the table. She remembered how jealous she’d felt when he’d seemed interested in Deira and not her, even though Charlie was so much closer to Deira’s age. She wondered if there was an age at which people didn’t think silly thoughts, do silly things, want impossible outcomes from the situations they found themselves in. She was beginning to doubt it.

  ‘Hi,’ she said in return.

  ‘Is Deira around?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s still asleep,’ said Grace. ‘She had a late night.’

  ‘Yes—’

  ‘I heard.’ Grace interrupted him. ‘She’s mortified about what she said to you.’

  ‘So she should be.’

  ‘She’s been going through a rough time.’

  ‘Even so.’

  ‘Can I tell her that you’re not thinking of her as the batshit-crazy baby lady?’

  Charlie grimaced. ‘It’s a good description.’

  ‘Her own,’ said Grace.

  ‘You can tell her what you like. We’ll never see each other again. I’m heading back to France now, but I didn’t want to walk out of here without saying hello and goodbye to you.’