I see Gallagher is up to his old tricks again.
Her pulse jolted, and she clicked on the attachment. A picture appeared, clearly taken with a long lens but detailed enough to show Cash pressing his lips to a woman’s cheek. Several other pictures followed, showing him with his head bowed against the weather, coat collar up, sprinting down the street.
Sorrow surged through her. A little over a week had passed since she’d last seen him, and he was already moving on. The photo of him with the woman was Martinez stirring things up. She’d made that mistake once before and wasn’t about to fall for it for a second time. The kiss was chaste. There was nothing even remotely sexual in it. But the story the pictures told were not of a man sitting at home, pining for what might have been. No, he was out and about, visiting friends, living his life.
Unlike her.
Anguish clawed at her stomach. She had to face facts. Cash wasn’t going to come knocking, begging her to take him back, pleading for forgiveness. She needed to follow his lead and make a new start. She’d wasted enough time.
“Are you sure you’ve got everything?” Em was dashing about, opening drawers and cupboards, creating chaos in her wake.
Tally rolled her eyes. “Anything I’ve forgotten I can buy. I’m hardly travelling to the back of beyond. We’re going to be late if you don’t get a move on.”
Em cursed as Pete honked the horn for the fourth time. “Jeez, chill out.”
“He has a job to get to, and I have a flight to catch. Now, will you hurry up?”
“Okay, okay. Right. Keys, phone, bag. Ready.”
Em slammed the door, and the two of them made a dash for Pete’s car.
“Sorry, Dozer,” she said with a cheeky smile that belied her apology as she clambered inside.
“You’ll be late for your own funeral,” he grumbled as he pulled out from the kerb.
“Had to make sure my girl’s got everything. She’s not going to the corner shop, you know.”
“Nor the moon,” Pete said.
As Pete pulled into the drop-off area at Heathrow airport, Tally glanced at her watch. A little less than two hours until take-off. She had plenty of time.
Pete lifted her suitcase from the boot and pulled out the extending handle. “Come here,” he said, wrapping his arms around her. “Call me when you land.”
“I will. Thanks for everything.”
Tally turned to Em, who had started to cry.
“I don’t want you to go,” she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve.
“I’ve got to, Em.”
“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”
“It’s only for a few months. Once I get settled, you can come out for a holiday.”
“Try and stop me.” Her hug, when it came, was brief. “Take care, you.”
Tally watched the car disappear around the corner, trying to ignore a nagging sense of being totally alone in the world. She dragged her suitcase into Departures and checked in. Once she was through security, she grabbed a latte at the nearest coffee shop and finally allowed her mind to wander. Everything had moved so fast since she’d decided to get away, which was just as well. With more time to think about how crazy this was, she might have changed her mind. She’d always been risk-averse, and heading to a foreign country for a few months when she couldn’t speak one word of the language was probably the riskiest thing she’d ever done.
As she walked down the gangway to board her flight, fear clutched at her stomach. She was scared out of her mind. She almost turned back but then remembered something her father had said when he was teaching her to swim. He’d been in the water, trying to get her to jump in. She must have been about six. She could still vividly recall how terrified she’d been as she shivered on the side of the pool.
“I’m scared, Daddy. I’m so scared.”
“Be scared, my darling girl,” he’d replied. “Be scared, and then do it anyway.”
Tally got on the plane.
A few hours later, she arrived in Athens. As she stepped outside the terminal building, the weak sun warmed her skin. It was a lot warmer than London at this time of year, though it wasn’t hot. She stood in line for a taxi and managed to make the driver understand where she needed to go. One night at a hotel was all she’d booked. By the next day, she needed to decide on her final destination. She had a half-baked idea to write an article about the refugee crisis. After talking to the barman at her hotel, who was extremely knowledgeable about the plight of the migrants, she decided to focus on Safome, a small island that had received its fair share of refugees seeking a new, safer life in Europe. Recession had hit the locals hard, yet rather than turn them away, the residents of the little island had welcomed the newcomers with open arms.
She popped down to the business centre and booked a flight to Rhodes for the following morning. From there, she’d be able to get a ferry to Safome.
Her new life was about to begin.
4
Cash jogged down the airplane steps to his waiting car. He handed his bag to the driver, got the formalities out of the way, and climbed into the back seat. Five minutes later, they were speeding down the autobahn towards Dr Bauer’s offices for Cash’s interview to see if he’d be a suitable candidate for the treatment programme.
Interview. He’d laughed when the receptionist had told him that, until he realised she wasn’t joking.
After making the decision to follow Rowan’s advice and seek proper treatment from an expert, he’d almost caved and called Natalia. He was desperate for her to know he hadn’t given up on their relationship, but as his finger had hovered over her number, he hadn’t been able to send the call. He was amazed Pete or Emmalee hadn’t rung to give him a mouthful. He’d certainly expected it in the days after he kicked Natalia out. But as time passed without hearing from them, he’d stopped jumping every time the phone rang.
He touched her engagement ring, which hung on a chain around his neck. It was his one connection to her, a constant reminder that he’d better work his fucking nuts off to try to recover. If he succeeded, maybe one day he’d be able to slip it back onto her finger.
Dr Bauer’s office was on the outskirts of Hamburg, a modern-looking facility, all glass and wood and chrome. It looked expensive and exclusive, which was not surprising, considering he was being charged a wedge for a one-hour consultation. And if the doctor deemed Cash suitable for his programme, that fee was a mere drop in a very big fucking ocean.
Cash slipped his phone into his jacket pocket and left his overnight bag in the car. His legs were heavy as he trudged up the path to the front of the building. Anyone would think he was heading for the gallows rather than meeting a man he hoped would help him get his life back.
The doors opened automatically, and Cash stepped inside. The reception area was empty—as per his instructions—apart from the receptionist who sat behind a large oak desk, her fingers flying over her keyboard.
“Mr Gallagher, welcome.” She stood and waved at a row of chairs lined up against the wall. “Take a seat. Dr Bauer will be with you shortly. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thanks.”
He sifted through the obligatory magazines, but none piqued his interest. He tidied them back into a pile and tapped his foot impatiently. He didn’t have to wait long for Bauer to arrive. He looked German, if there was such a thing—sandy hair, thinning on top, compensated by a very bushy beard. He wore horn-rimmed glasses and a tweed jacket with leather patches on the elbows. Cash almost laughed. The man was a walking cliché.
“Mr Gallagher,” he said in heavily accented English. “I’m Dr Bauer.” He shook Cash’s hand, his grip firm yet warm. “Please come through.”
Cash followed him down a thickly carpeted hallway, which resembled a decent Hilton as opposed to a mental health facility. Bauer’s office was at the very end and looked out onto well-trimmed gardens with regimented borders filled with multicoloured plants. Cash inwardly groaned. He was definitely losing the plot if
he’d begun to notice flowers.
“Sit, please.” Bauer waved to a comfy-looking chair that was a far cry from a psychiatrist’s couch. Perhaps not the full cliché package, then. Cash sat down, his legs jiggling of their own accord.
“You seem nervous.”
Cash grimaced. “Been a long time since I had an interview that mattered, Doc.”
Bauer chuckled. “Try not to think of it like that. It’s more of a getting-to-know-each-other session.”
“So how does this work exactly? I spill my guts, and you decide whether I’m a candidate for your programme?”
Bauer leaned back in his chair, fingers steepled under his chin. “Do you want to spill your guts?”
“Not particularly. But we’re not going to get very far if I don’t, are we?”
“Aren’t we?”
An uncomfortable feeling stirred in Cash’s chest. Was this guy taking the piss?
“Are you feeling angry now?”
Cash glared across the desk. “You some kind of mind reader?”
“A reader of body language perhaps.”
Cash glanced down at his fisted hands and unclenched them. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “This isn’t exactly comfortable for me.”
“I’m sure it isn’t.” Bauer picked up a pad and pencil. He crossed his legs, resting the pad on one knee. Pencil poised, he fixed his gaze on Cash. “How long has it been since your accident?”
Cash counted backwards. “A little over three months.”
“And you were in the coma for how long?”
“Fifteen days.”
Bauer scrawled on the pad, the pencil making a scraping noise that began to get on Cash’s nerves.
“And apart from the rage, any other symptoms? Headaches, eyesight problems, loss of memory? Impotence?”
Cash’s lips twitched, despite the churn in his gut. “I have no memory of the moments right before the accident until I woke up two weeks later, but apart from the crush injury to my hand, everything else works just fine, Doc.”
Bauer almost smiled, but Cash got the feeling the man didn’t possess an active sense of humour.
“Have you noticed any patterns in what causes the rage? Places, people, events?”
Cash hesitated. “Only one. Every time I think about not being able to play tennis again.” Flames of anger licked at his insides, and he breathed in slowly through his nose.
“Has that been medically confirmed?”
He met Bauer’s steady gaze. “Your lot never say never, right?”
“My lot?”
“Doctors. They’ve used words like challenging and difficult, but no one has said I’m definitely screwed, even though I am.”
Bauer tilted his head to the right. “And why would you think that?”
Cash leaned forward and picked up a glass of water. It instantly slipped through his fingers and smashed on the floor. “Lost my best wanking hand, Doc.”
Bauer gave the first genuine smile Cash had seen, but it disappeared as quickly as it had arrived. “Are you still having physio?”
“On and off.”
“I suggest more on and less off. I can recommend someone if you’d like. Local to here.”
“And what use would that be to me?”
Bauer dropped the pad onto his desk and held out his hand once more. “Welcome to the programme, Mr Gallagher.”
Half an hour later, Cash opened the door to his hotel room and dropped his bag on the floor. He flopped onto the bed. He’d made it onto the course for nutjobs. He wasn’t totally sure how he felt about being accepted into Bauer’s programme, but at least he was doing something. Bauer seemed confident Cash had a good chance, maybe not of a cure but of finding coping mechanisms to help manage the mental changes brought about by his accident. And if he learned to control his anger, then he had a chance of winning Natalia back.
Right then, he made a promise to himself. Whenever this road got tough—and it would—he’d keep her at the forefront of his mind. He was doing this for himself, for her, and for their future together.
Looks like I’m moving to Germany.
5
The ferry moored in Safome’s harbour, and Tally gathered her things as she waited for the captain to tether the ship to the quayside. The hotel staff in Athens had been brilliant, helping her book a hotel on the island for the next seven nights, which would give her time to find a more permanent place to stay. Her dad’s legacy wouldn’t last long if she spent it on hotels. She needed to find an apartment to rent as soon as possible.
She already loved this place and hadn’t even seen much of it yet. Blue water lapped over golden sand, and the hillside was dotted with white buildings. For the first time in months, a calm settled over her. This was the place to heal her ravaged heart and broken life. She’d never get over losing Cash, but he’d made his feelings perfectly clear, and she had enough self-respect not to beg.
After a short walk from the harbour, she arrived at her hotel. Check-in was easy, and minutes later, she walked into her room, a lovely traditional space with whitewashed walls and light furniture. It even had a small balcony with a couple of plastic chairs and tables and a lovely view of the sea.
She dug out her phone and put in a quick call to Pete. He worried too much, and she didn’t want to be the cause of more concern. Once she’d put his mind at rest, she settled on the balcony and rang Em. At first, she thought her friend wasn’t going to pick up, but right before the call went to voicemail, Em’s breathless voice sounded on the other end.
“Don’t hang up!”
“I’m here,” Tally said. “Where were you?”
“In the bloody shower. I’m standing in the middle of the living room, starkers and dripping wet.”
“Lovely. Go and get dressed. I’ll hang on.”
Em was back two minutes later, her girly giggle making Tally terribly homesick. “Think the guy across the street got more than an eyeful. The blinds are open.”
“He’ll probably be your next boyfriend.”
“Ew, no. He’s about fifty, fat, and bald. I might be desperate, but I’m not quite that desperate yet.”
Tally laughed. “Good to know.”
“Where’ve you landed anyway?”
“Safome.”
“Where’s that?”
“Not too far from Rhodes. A short ferry ride away from an airport. It’s quiet and quaint. Exactly what I need.”
“At least you’ve arrived safely. What’s the plan?”
“I don’t know yet,” Tally said, unwilling to discuss her idea about the article until she had it firmed up in her mind. “The hotel I stayed at in Athens got me sorted with a hotel here for the next week. I guess I’ll decide over that time whether I’m staying, which I probably will, and then I’ll get an apartment.”
“As long as it has a sofa bed or somewhere for me to kip.”
“Of course it will.” Melancholy swept over her, and she forced brightness into her voice. “Miss you already.”
“Miss you too, babes.”
“I’ll call you in a couple of days.”
“You’d better.”
As Tally ended the call, she gave herself a virtual slap. This was an exciting opportunity, one afforded to her by Dad, and she wouldn’t waste it feeling sorry for herself.
When her stomach rumbled, she decided to go for a walk, get her bearings, and grab something to eat. She headed down to the harbour. Along the seafront were a couple of tavernas. Tally seated herself at one of them and waved to catch the waiter’s attention. All the concerns she’d had about not being able to speak the language were unfounded. Everyone spoke excellent English, especially compared to Tally and her nonexistent Greek, and they were thrilled to have someone to practice on, insisting she correct them whenever they mispronounced anything or couldn’t find the right word.
When the waiter brought her food, she asked him if he had time to sit with her for a while. As it was off-season and the restaurant was virtually empty, he agreed
. They chatted as she ate, and after she’d finished, she decided to raise the subject she was most interested in.
“Tell me about the refugees,” she said, sipping her Coke.
Sadness crossed his face. “It is so terrible. Such a tragedy.”
“Are there many here?”
“Yes. About two thousand. It is all the camp can take. The refugees, they wait here until papers come through, and then they travel to the mainland.”
“Two thousand?” Tally raised her eyebrows. “That’s a lot for a small island.”
“It is.” He gave her a pained look. “The government cannot cope. That is when a group of us decided we had to help. We do what we can, although we don’t have much.”
The more he shared, the more excited Tally became. This would make a great story, not only from the point of view of the refugees. She’d be able to offer a slant on how those with so little were willing to give what they could to those who had even less. Maybe if she shone a light on what was happening there, more help would come.
She thanked him for his company and went for a wander around. Behind the harbour, the streets were narrow with one-of-a-kind shops, a couple of cafés, and an ice cream parlour serving many varieties she’d never even heard of. She peered in the windows of a few of the shops and went inside one or two. Only when her shadow became longer did she notice the sun was beginning to dip behind the buildings.
She set off for the hotel but must have taken a wrong turn because nothing looked familiar. As darkness descended, she dug her phone out of her bag and switched on the torch app. Along the street, a warm glow shone from a shop window. Thank goodness. It must still be open. Surely whoever was inside would be able to give her directions back to her hotel?
Her sanctuary turned out to be a small café. She opened the door, the bell above dinging to alert the staff to her presence. The place was empty, and after a minute or so when no one appeared, she called out. Still no one came. Behind the counter was a doorway to what she presumed was the kitchen. Feeling a little cheeky but needing directions back to the hotel, she ducked behind the counter and pushed open the door.
Grand Slam: A Winning Ace Novel (Book 3) Page 3