She could almost feel Maya’s angry, toxic presence spreading round her like a bad smell. Soon, if someone didn’t do something, she might infect the entire group.
4
There wasn’t much opportunity to chat to Tash over breakfast because the lady in the voluminous smock sat next to Cleo and occupied her for most of the meal.
Noreen, it turned out, was a psychotherapist from Connecticut. She was eighty-one years old, though she looked and behaved like a much younger person, and had recently remarried.
‘My first husband died of a heart attack three years ago,’ she explained. ‘I couldn’t bear to rattle round our big house on my own for the rest of my days, so I went online. Fortunately, there are plenty of dating sites, even for wrinklies like me. I soon met Ron, who’s just a couple of years older than me and a complete darling, and we got married last summer. We feel terribly lucky to have found each other. We’re blissfully happy.’
The sparkle in her soft grey eyes was enough to convince Cleo she was telling the truth. Noreen did, indeed, seem to have struck gold and age hadn’t dampened her enthusiasm for life – or her sense of humour.
‘What brought you here?’ Cleo wanted to know, eyeing the contents of the small glass dish in front of her, containing what looked suspiciously like frogspawn.
‘That’s a very good question,’ Noreen replied in a confidential manner, picking up her silver teaspoon and tentatively poking the top of the greyish, gelatinous mixture in her own bowl.
‘You see, what I’ve learned down the years is even happily married folks need a break from each other now and again. It helps keep the spark alive, if you know what I mean.’
She let out a loud guffaw, like a horse’s bray, which made Cleo laugh, too. She was thinking, if Noreen and Ron still had a spark in their eighties, there was hope for everyone.
‘Ron was off to Florida on a golfing trip with friends, so I thought – hell! I’m gonna treat myself to something, too,’ she went on. ‘I love Crete and all things Greek, actually. Plus, I knew I could do with some exercise. Ron says we have to keep fit and mobile for as long as possible. He works out two or three times a week and does weights and all that, but I can’t stand the gym. I’m naturally lazy – always have been – but I figured if I had someone yelling at me to do stuff, I’d have to put in the work.’ She grinned and shrugged. ‘That’s the theory, anyway. Watch this space!’
Cleo noticed Frida and Ingrid tucking into their breakfast pots with enthusiasm. Her own hunger had returned with a vengeance and she picked up her spoon and prodded the grey concoction.
‘What is this, do you think?’ she asked Noreen, who raised her eyebrows.
‘No idea.’
Frida must have overheard.
‘It’s chia pudding,’ she explained, leaning across the table. ‘Chia seeds are very good for you. They’re full of protein and other nutrients. You soak them in something like almond milk or oat milk and leave them in the fridge overnight. Then you can add what you like – honey, maple syrup, fruit or whatever. It’s delicious, try it!’
Encouraged by these words, Cleo reached for an open jar of honey on the table and added a dollop to her bowl, along with a handful of seeds, before taking a mouthful.
The pudding was, indeed, scrumptious – thick and creamy with a mild, milky taste and a slight crunch, thanks to the hydrated seeds.
She took another spoonful, and another, while Frida watched, amused.
‘It’s also very good for your gut,’ she said. ‘You’ll probably need to go to the toilet more than usual today.’
Cleo glanced at her bowl, which was now almost empty, and made a mental note to keep as close as possible to the loo at all times.
The small pudding, followed by a few slices of honeydew melon and a cup of herbal tea, seemed hardly enough to fill the hole in her stomach. But when she’d finished and risen from the table, she realised she wasn’t hungry any more.
Henrietta and Mark must have worked out the portion sizes of the meals very carefully. Clever.
There was barely enough time to rush back to her room, clean her teeth, change into shorts and trainers and fill up her water bottle before circuit training, incorporating HIIT – short for High Intensity Interval Training – kicked off at 10.30a.m.
This was to take place in a grassy area outside the grounds of the villa, and Cleo and Tash had agreed to meet at the main gates and walk over there together.
‘I’m not sure Maya’s leaning into the spirit of the week,’ Cleo said as they set off, after quickly checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. ‘She’s giving Ima such a hard time; she doesn’t deserve it.’
‘Lesley’s a misery too,’ Tash agreed. ‘Thank God for the Norwegians. Noreen’s lovely as well – super smart and I bet she’s a right laugh after a couple of glasses of wine. She’s got such a cheeky sense of humour. I hope I’m like her if I’m lucky enough to make it to my eighties.’
The women had only walked a short distance along the track when they spotted Henrietta, in a bright orange vest top today, putting cones out on a grassy clearing to their right.
Mark was helping, pulling heavy-looking weights off a trolley and placing them on the ground. It was clearly a case of all hands on deck.
Noreen was by the trolley, attempting to assist Mark by lifting one of the weights for him. She only managed to raise it a few inches from the cart, however, before having to drop it again.
