And Then She Ran by Karen Clarke

Author:Karen Clarke [Clarke, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2021-04-06T17:00:00+00:00

Chapter 24

I pushed through the heaving bar to the table where Morag and Ifan were chatting to an older couple. Lily had nodded off again, her head tipped to one side, a rosy flush on her cheeks. So much for my worrying the pub wasn’t a suitable environment.

‘You said my phone was ringing.’

Morag looked up, pleasure flashing over her face at the sight of me. ‘I heard this weird noise, like a bird had got trapped.’ She reached for my bag, tucked by her side. ‘I realised it must be your phone but it stopped, then started again.’ She gave me a meaningful look. ‘Someone has your number.’

‘It’s OK,’ I said, heart thumping hard. ‘She’s the friend I mentioned the other day, the one I was going to call.’

Understanding relaxed Morag’s face. ‘Ana.’

‘I tried calling her when you were in the supermarket,’ I said. ‘I left a message, asking her to ring me back.’

‘You could phone from home,’ she said, so naturally it was as if I’d been living under her roof for years. ‘Now it’s been fixed.’ She wiggled her eyebrows at Ifan – such an unusually flirtatious gesture I had to look at her glass and check it really was orange juice and not vodka.

‘I’d like to call her back now, if that’s OK.’ I pulled the phone out as it started ringing again. No one had called me on it before. Morag was right: it sounded like a distressed bird.

‘Take it outside. Go on,’ she said when I paused and looked at Lily. ‘She’s fine.’

‘She’s gorgeous,’ said the woman sitting opposite, lipstick gathered in the wrinkles around her mouth. ‘Looks just like you.’ She leant forward, peering at me myopically. ‘Is that a bruise on your cheek, dear?’

‘You think it was the same lot who attacked Jan at the farm?’ I heard the old woman’s companion saying as I hurried away, bursting through the door into the car park with the phone pressed to my ear. When it carried on ringing, I checked the screen and pressed the green handset button. ‘Ana?’

‘Grace, thank Christ! I’ve been calling for ages. I was starting to worry.’

It was so good to hear her voice, I felt like bursting into tears. As my two lives collided, everything that had felt normal moments ago receded. It was seven o’clock here, which must mean it was 2 p.m. in New York. I heard traffic sounds in the background, imagined Ana crossing the busy road to the ugly building that housed the health company where she worked, a cup of something healthy in her hand from the juice bar on the corner. Sometimes, she’d buy me one and bring it to the restaurant, but I could never manage more than a couple of sips. ‘I didn’t have my phone with me,’ I said, walking to the van. The door was unlocked and I clambered in out of the biting wind. ‘How are you, Ana? I’ve been desperate to talk to you, but the phone

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