The Women Who Ran Away by Sheila O’Flanagan
English | 2020 | General Fiction/Classics | ePUB | 3.1 MB
Deira isn’t the kind of woman to steal a car. Or drive to France alone with no plan. But then, Deira didn’t expect to be single. Or to suddenly realise that the only way she can get the one thing she wants most is to start breaking every rule she lives by.
Grace has been sent on a journey by her late husband, Ken. She doesn’t really want to be on it but she’s following his instructions, as always. She can only hope that the trip will help her to forgive him. And then – finally – she’ll be able to let him go.
Brought together by unexpected circumstances, Grace and Deira find that it’s easier to share secrets with a stranger, especially in the shimmering sunny countryside of Spain and France. But they soon find that there’s no escaping the truth, whether you’re running away from it or racing towards it . . .
Even after she’d put her luggage in the tiny boot of the convertible, Deira still wasn’t sure if she was going to go through with it. Which was crazy, she told herself, because this was the easy bit. The harder part had been the previous night, when she’d walked into the dimly lit underground car park and waited for the Audi to unlock automatically. Even as she’d told herself that nobody would take any notice of her, she’d expected one of the residents to suddenly appear and ask her what the hell she was doing. But the one person already there, a young man in head-to-toe Lycra, was more concerned with unchaining his bike than with Deira’s actions.
Nevertheless, the familiar click as she slid her hand along the driver’s door was comforting. So was lowering herself into the driver’s seat and finding that it still moved automatically to her favoured position when she pressed the memory button. She’d been afraid it would have changed. But there was no lingering scent of an unknown perfume or a different shampoo. No sense that someone else had taken her place. Nothing at all was different. Her heartbeat slowed down. Everything felt normal. Easy. Right.
Driving slowly out of the apartment complex, she’d told herself that her criminal career was off to a good start.
Of course she had a key, which surely meant that taking the Audi wasn’t actually a criminal act, no matter how anyone else might see it; but she wasn’t supposed to be here, doing this. Deira didn’t care. She was past caring. And being back in the car was comforting in a way she hadn’t expected. So it was worth it.
Now, as she slammed the boot closed and walked back into the granite mews overlooking the canal, she felt a sudden rush of tears fill her eyes and clamped down hard on her jaw to try to stop them falling. It didn’t matter that she was tired of crying; the slightest thing still set her off, blubbing uncontrollably and embarrassing both her and anyone around her. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. If for no other reason than the sake of her skin, she needed to get over it. Her complexion was ruined from the salt of her ever-present tears.
She glanced at the clock on the kitchen wall and released a slow breath. Unless she was going to chicken out at the last minute, she’d have to leave soon. After all the trouble she’d gone to, missing the ferry would be a complete disaster.