Finding Margo Read Free Page B

suddenly asked.
    “Horses?” Margo said, confused.
    “Yeah. That’s what I have in the truck here. Two of the best event horses in Ireland. I’m bringing them back from a competition in Grenoble. I had someone to help me, but the bitch let me down. Decided to go off with a groom from Italy, and now I have to look after the horses on my own. So if you think you could give me a hand with ‘em, I’ll be happy to give you a lift and drop you off somewhere near Paris.”
    “Horses?” Margo said again. “Well yes, as long as it’s not too complicated. I went to pony camp once when I was younger. But that was a long time ago.”
    “Pony camp, eh? Well then, you would know the basics, wouldn’t you?”
    “I suppose.”
    “Great. OK.” The woman wiped her hand on the back of her jeans and held it out to Margo. “By the way, I’m Gráinne.”
    “I’m sorry? You’re what?”
    The woman laughed. “I get that all the time. It’s my name, very common in Ireland. Seems to confuse English people big time. Gra, rhymes with ‘bra’, for someone with your la-de-da accent, then ‘nya’. Try it, ‘gra-nya’.”
    “Gráinne.”
    “Brilliant. What’s your name?”
    “M—” Margo started. “Maggie.”
    Gráinne grabbed Margo’s hand and shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Maggie. Are you ready?”
    Margo nodded, feeling oddly excited, as if she was embarking on some kind of adventure. “Yes, I’m ready,” she said.
    “Want to nip into the jacks before we go? It’s just across that footbridge.”
    “No!’ Margo exclaimed. “I’m all right. And thank you so much for helping me.”
    “No bother. OK, let’s go then,” Gráinne said and opened the door to the driver’s side.
    Margo ran around to the other side, opened the door, climbed up, and settled into the passenger seat. Gráinne put on her seat belt, turned the key in the ignition, and the truck’s engine came alive.
    “OK?” she shouted over the rumble. Margo nodded again, clutching her bag and looking straight ahead, a feeling of elation making her heart beat faster.
    “Here we go,” Gráinne yelled as she put her foot on the accelerator. “Next stop, Paris.”
    ***
    T he truck shook and rattled as it made its way through the dark woods. They had left the motorway nearly an hour earlier, and Gráinne had explained that they would spend the night near a farm where they could let the horses out in a field, and Gráinne and Margo would sleep in the truck. Margo held onto the handle of the door, trying to keep herself steady, having absolutely no idea where they were. She had been trying to make polite conversation with Gráinne for a while, but now the CD player was on full blast, playing country and western music. Gráinne had smoked at least five cigarettes since the beginning of the journey, and the heat and the twisting motion of the truck combined with the smoke were beginning to make Margo feel queasy.
    “Are we there yet?” she asked like a child when there was a lull in the music.
    “Nope,” Gráinne said.
    “Maybe we could stop for a moment?”
    “What for?” Gráinne asked, the cigarette in the corner of her mouth, her eyes squinting through the smoke.
    “I don’t know. Fresh air? Those cigarettes are making me sick.”
    “You don’t say,” Gráinne muttered, but the cigarette stayed stuck in her mouth.
    “Smoking is very bad for you,” Margo stated. “But I’m sure you’re well aware of that.”
    “Yeah, right.”
    “And passive smoking is just as bad.”
    “Is that supposed to be a hint?”
    “Maybe.” Margo shrugged and looked out the window, staring into the gathering dusk.
    “You some kind of nurse?” Gráinne grunted.
    “I’m a physiotherapist,” Margo replied. “I mean, I was. Before I got married.”
    “I see. A fucking health freak.” Gráinne stubbed her cigarette out in the overflowing ashtray. “So you’re married, then?”
    “Not anymore. And I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “OK.”