A Chance Encounter by Rae Shaw (e manga reader TXT) 📗

suggested a morning run on Wednesday to help with the nervous energy that kept her awake at night. She still hadn’t told him about her change of plans – the one that had begun with living with big brother, and now involved going abroad. His reply was tardy. He was out of town, taking a small vacation with his new friend. The apology was sweet. Their paths hadn't crossed recently, and she felt his presence slipping away through her fingers. As she paved her future with concrete actions, her past crumbled into dust. She abandoned the idea of a run.

Her dreams had to lay elsewhere, fashioned by her own ambitions and decisions, and free from the influence of her family. But still, she slept fitfully and questioned her judgement, especially her rejection of Mark and his connections, and the few friends she had who might offer a neutral opinion. Instead, she had searched for information about the dig and, like Derek, she unearthed nothing.

Hello. The word echoed into the digital void and she waited. No response, so she carried on typing. I can't find the location of this dig? Why? Is it not registered?

Freddie was an owl and the reply appeared later in the evening.

It's not publicly listed because the landowner doesn't want people crawling over his fields with metal detectors. Sorry don't know any more. Not my area of expertise. I'm sure everything will be explained when you arrive. Remember to bring your passport and banker's card, so we can set up an account for your pay and have you bought the ticket?

Yes, and yes. Heathrow to Dublin. Friday evening.

It was already Wednesday – two nights to go. The level of excitement ratcheted up every time she chatted with Freddie. His enthusiasm bolstered her nerves. If she couldn't sleep tonight, she would have to drink herself there just for medicinal purposes. She hadn’t drunk alcohol since the dinner at Luke’s.

Garth will meet you. He's a good friend and I trust him. He'll come with Alicia, the archaeology student I told you about. They'll come to your room at the hostel, so don't go wandering off when you arrive. Alicia is keen to meet you and tell you more about the project. I'll take you out for a meal once you've settled. Something to celebrate your arrival.

Freddie included an email address for Garth. Ask him for more details. Thanks for the photograph you sent. I know this is the first time I've seen you, and I'm honoured by your faith in me.

You, too. You're younger than I thought. I had this idea you were an old catholic priest.

The photo he had sent earlier in the week was a head shot of a bearded man with red hair and black framed glasses that betrayed his myopic vision. He wasn't a looker. What had she expected? Another suave Nicky with body builder muscles.

Seriously? Me? I suppose I allow my religious persuasions to rise to the surface sometimes. Now I have to confess something to you.

What? Her stomach churned.

I trained as a social worker. I know you don't like us, so I kept it quiet. Can you forgive me?

She laughed, her fingers racing over the keys to relieve him of his worries. I forgive you.

Phew! So we're all set to meet this weekend. I hope you're excited.

Yes, yes. A string of emojis animated the line of text.

Her mood swung upwards.

One more thing, Ellen. Tell your mother. She deserves to know that you're moving on. Finding happiness.

Her hands slipped off the keyboard. The seconds trickled past. She hadn't spoken to Deidre in months. The last time, they had argued about visiting her father. Ellen had refused to make the journey.

Ellen. Make peace.

She closed the laptop lid. Freddie was keen on reconciliation, especially recently. If his long-term goal had been to reunite the family it was admirable, but unachievable. She would explain things when they met, fill him in on the missing details, then he would understand her bitterness and anger. For now, she would play along.

~ * ~

The blocked number was listed in her contacts. A daughter shouldn't block her mother's numbers, but she had. Deidre had tried to trick her with new SIM cards. She had even used neighbour's numbers. After a few months she had given up the ruse.

Tapping the screen of her mobile, Ellen dialled the home number, the landline. It rang and rang, and she heaved a sigh of relief. She was out.

‘Hello?’ her panic-stricken mother yelled out of the tiny speaker. ‘Who's there? Is that you, Bill? It's not your day for ringing. It’s very late. How have you managed—’

‘It's me. Mum.’

‘Ellie? Is that you?’

‘Yes.’ She gripped the phone tighter.

‘Ellie. Is there news?’

‘News?’ She moved into the kitchen with the phone still close to her mouth.

‘Yes. About the appeal. Mark hasn't contacted me in ages. Why is he so selfish? Eh? You must see him in London. The pair of you—’

‘Mum, please, shut up and listen.’

‘Oh, I see, like that is it?’

‘I'm going to Ireland for a few weeks. It's archaeological work and I'll have the chance—’

‘Ellen, I'm sure it's very exciting for you, but when is Mark going to call me about Dad? He's lost weight again. Do you know how hard it is to see him like that? Wasting away.’

She poured the wine out of the bottle into the glass and it spilt over the rim. ‘Sure, Mum. He's going to slip between the bars and break out.’

‘This is why I don't speak to you.’

The mobile shook in her hand. She couldn't hold the rage in. Mark should have done the deed, but he had missed the chance and had gifted Ellen the opportunity. She steadied her hand. ‘The feeling's mutual. Well, I do have news. The appeal is